Aunt Mary was silent. She was not a person who spoke easily on difficult subjects.
"Why don't you ever talk to me about my father, Aunt Mary? Uncle Tom does."
"I didn't know your father, Honora."
"But you have seen him?"
"Yes," said Aunt Mary, dipping her cloth into the whiting; "I saw him at my wedding. But he was very, young."
"What was he like?" Honora demanded. "He was very handsome, wasn't he?"
'Yes, child."
"And he had ambition, didn't he, Aunt Mary?"
Aunt Mary paused. Her eyes were troubled as she looked at Honora, whose head was thrown back.
"What kind of ambition do you mean, Honora?"