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But at other times she accused herself of having acted in
a petty snobbish spirit in declining the chance not only for pleasant
new friendships, especially Frederica's, but for a closer association
with her sister. Well, the thing was done now, and the question
certainly never would rise again.
The reason why it couldn't arise again was what Portia came to tell Rose
this morning. She hoped she'd be able to tell it gently--provide Rose
with just the facts she'd have to know, and get away without letting any
other facts escape, so that afterward she'd have the consolation of
being able to say to herself, "That was finely done." All her life, she
told herself, she had been doing fine things grudgingly, mutilating them
in the doing. If she weren't very careful, that would happen this
morning. If she could have known the truth and made her resolution, and
confided it to Rose during the first hours of her mother's illness, when
the fight for life had drawn them together, it would not have been hard.


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