"
He was almost pleading with her, but she did not feel her hardness
melting. Nevertheless she sat down.
"Now tell me what it was."
"I don't think I can do that, Hermione."
"I am her mother. I have a right to know. I have a right to know
everything about my child's life."
In those words, and in the way they were spoken, Hermione's bitter
jealousy about the two secrets kept from her, but shared by Artois,
rushed out into the light.
"I am sure there is nothing in Vere's life that might not be told to
the whole world without shame; and yet there may be many things that
an innocent girl would not care to tell to any one."
"But if things are told they should be told to the mother. The mother
comes first."
He said nothing.
"The mother comes first!" she repeated, almost fiercely. "And you
ought to know it. You do know it!"
"You do come first with Vere."
"If I did, Vere would confide in me rather than in any one else."
As Hermione said this, all the long-contained bitterness caused by
Vere's exclusion of her from the knowledge that had been freely given
to Artois brimmed up suddenly in her heart, overflowed boundaries,
seemed to inundate her whole being.
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