People Like That

h of my parents, married her father. I was twelve and Kitty eight when the marriage took place, and with canny c

twenty presented me to society, but she never knew me, never in the least understood the hunger in my heart for what it was not

lessness of her will; and that independence on my part survived was due to sturdy stubbornness, to

acutely, because I had so long been seemingly indifferent to them. On the morning following the night in which I had faced frankly undeniable facts I went to Aunt Matilda's room and told

d for my impertinence and audacity in daring to desire to go out into the world to earn what there was no necessity for my e

not say to her, but surely would have said to others. For years I had been the recipient of her bounty, the object of her care, and she still tho

ges as his daughter. He has very willingly given you these. If you no longer care to accept his protection, you can ma

asy. The doctor had warned us of the seriousness of her condition. She was pitifully afraid of death-it was the only thing she was afraid of-a

nger have to be adjuncts to men because they don't know how to be anything else. The

y to carry out your silly ideas, what could you do? How could you earn your living? You play well, paint a little, read books that do you no good, and hardly enough of the new novels to discuss them. All this sociological stuff, those scient

taught little that would be of practical service in case of need. I'd like to use part of my time trying to make educators understand they don

mine to fulfil the destiny of my sex and at the same time become the wife of the man she had long wished me to marry. The power of money was dear to her. She understood it well, and my failure to appreciate it properly was peculiarly exasperating to

il there had been time for her to realize I meant what I said? Before I could

trong hands trembled badly. "With my health in its present condition I couldn't get on without you. You ar

sed and frightened look that was new to them, and q

a thing again-such a thing as you have just spoke

down a child's, but she would not let me do anything for her, insisting only that she wanted to be quiet. Seeing it

gnant at the way she had treated me. I was not a child to be disposed of, and yet of my future she was disposing as though it were a thing that could be tied to a string, and untied at will. Were she well an

e knowledge of the insidious disease that was hers was the high, hard wall against which I struck at every tu

elter, controlled by custom and convention, wherein I lived. I had long been looking through stained glass. I was restless to get out and

comes to making decisions which affect others I am a coward. I lack the courage to have my own way at the expense of some one else; and though through

arriage she died suddenly, and at times I still shiver with the cold clamminess that came over me as I stood by her in her last sleep and realized my aloneness in the world. My parents had died in my early childhood. I had no brothers or sisters, no near relatives, save an uncle who lived abroad and some cousins here in town. Mr. Chesmond was very kind, but I could not continue to accept what he had willingly gi

ilda. Perhaps it is because Selwyn was here