"Winnie's second child arrived last week. It was an awful confinement. The first doctor had to get another, and they only just pulled her through. The child's a misery. It would be much better if it had died. I can't think what she'll do. Her husband's a wretched creature--just manages to keep in work--but he neglects her shamefully--and if there ever is anything to spend, _he_ spends it--on his own amusement. She cried the other day, when we were talking of you. She thinks you're living with a rich lady, and have everything you want--and she and her children are often half-starved. 'She might forgive me now, I do think--' she'll say sometimes--'And as for Henry, if I did take him away from her, she may thank her stars she didn't marry him. She'd have killed him by now. She never could stand men like Henry. Only, when he was a young fellow, he took her in--her first, and then me. It was a bad job we ever saw him.' "Why are you so set against us, Gertrude?--your own flesh and blood. I'm sure if I ever was unkind to you I'm sorry for it. You used to say I favoured Albert at your expense--Well, he's as good as dead to me now, and I've got no good out of all the spoiling I gave him. I sit at home by myself, and I'm a pretty miserable woman. I read everything I can in the papers about what you're doing--you, who were my only child, seven years before Albert came. It doesn't matter to you what I think--at least, it oughtn't. I'm an old woman, and whatever I thought I'd never quarrel with you. But it would matter to me a good deal, if you'd sometimes come in, and sit by the fire a bit, and chat. It's three years since I've even seen you. Winnie says you've forgotten us--you only care about the vote. But I don't believe it. Other people may think the vote can make up for everything--but not you. You're too clever. Hoping to see you," "Your lonely old mother, JANET MARVELL." To that letter, Gertrude had already written her reply. Sometime--in the summer, perhaps, she had said to her mother. And she had added the mental proviso--"if I am alive." For the matters in which she was engaged were no child's play, and the excitements of prison and hunger-striking might tell even on the strongest physique.