When the crash came, and--and all
the shame, I just ran away from it. I couldn't have done anything else.
Ever since then I have been trying to build things up elsewhere, and I had
to have money for it. You can't blame me, Beatrice. You aren't any better.
You always want to be first in your singing and your painting, you always
want the best of what's going. You always want to be admired and
successful in everything you do. You take after me in that." A note of
curious pride crept into her voice. "So it's just like this, Beatrice--I
can't live without position. I may not take poison, but I shall die all
the same if I can't play a part in the world. All I ask is that you help
me all you can. It's not much. I've been a pretty decent mother to you.
You can't say that there was ever a time when I grudged you a pretty frock
or a dance--" She stopped in her long speech, yielding to Beatrice's
irrepressible gesture of impatience.
"You needn't have gone into so much explanation," the girl said, fastening
a small diamond pendant round her white neck. "I know you and I know
myself. As to my gratitude, I am fully aware of what I owe you, and am
ready to pay. What do you want me to do?"
"Don't go against me."
"I haven't done so yet. I don't mean to. As far as I can recollect, I've
pulled us both out of as many scrapes as you have landed us into,"
Beatrice replied.
"I know. That's why I want you to do your best now.
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