She swallows. I cry still harder. ''Sue,'' I say. ''Oh, Sue . . .''
''Now, why look like that? Didn''t I do everything for her, just as her mother wanted?—kept her safe, kept her tidy, made a commonplace
girl of her? What have I done, but give her back the life you had from
her?''
''You have killed her!'' I say.
''Killed her? When there''s all those doctors about her, all sup-nosing her a lady?—And that don''t come cheap, I can tell you.''
''It certainly doesn''t,'' says Richard. ''You''re paying for that, don''t forget. I should have had her in the county asylum, were it down to
me.''
''You see, dear girl? Killed her! Why, she might have been killed any day of her life, but for me! Who was it nursed her, when she took sick? Who kept the boys off her? I should have given my hands, my legs, my lungs, for the saving of hers. But do you think, that when I did those things I was doing them for her? What use will a commonplace girl be to me, when I am rich? I was doing them for you! Don''t think of her. She was water, she was coal, she was dust, in comparison with what''s been made of you.''
I stare at her. ''My God!'' I say. ''How could you? How could you?''
Again, she looks amazed. ''How could I not?''
''But, to cheat her! To leave her, there—!''
She reaches, and pats my sleeve. ''You let them take her,'' she says. Then her look changes. She almost winks. ''And oh, dear girl, don''t you think you was your mother''s daughter, then?''