You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. I would have heard her.
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