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Rinehart, Mary Roberts

"Bab"

My literary Aspirations
were as nothing to her!
Oh, the bitterness of that moment. My mother, who had cared
for me as a child, and obeyed my slightest wish, no longer
understood me. And sadest of all, there was no way out. None.
Once, in my Youth, I had beleived that I was not the child of my
parents at all, but an adopted one--perhaps of rank and kept out
of my inheritance by those who had selfish motives. But now I
knew that I had no rank or Inheritance, save what I should carve
out for myself. There was no way out. None.
Mother rose slowly, stareing at me with perfectly fixed and
glassy Eyes.
"I am absolutely sure," she said, "that you are on the edge
of somthing. It may be tiphoid, or it may be an elopement. But
one thing is certain. You are not normle."
With this she left me to my Thoughts. But she did not
neglect me. Sis came up after Dinner, and I saw mother's fine
hand in that. Although not hungry in the usual sense of the
word, I had begun to grow rather empty, and was nibling out of
a box of Chocolates when Sis came.
She got very little out of me. To one with softness and
tenderness I would have told all, but Sis is not that sort.


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