“We look at it differently,” she replied. “I’m twenty years older than you, and, being a woman, perhaps I feel more bitterly for Rose. Besides, I’m a rebel and you’re not. I’m a believer in cutting knots, and you—although you’re more sympathetic than most—are still in favour of ‘endurance vile.’ Let those endure that enjoy it, say I, but let the others try for a second innings and a happier. If Rose had remained it would have been for what purpose? To pander to her husband’s respectability. Do you defend that? Is that your idea of a sound motive?” “Everything can be put up with,” I said feebly. “Ever since I began to practise I have been watching couples putting up with bad jobs.” “And admiring them?” “In a way—yes,” I said. “And wanting the same kind of death-in-life for your own girl?” “Well—” I began. “You must answer that question, yes or no,” she insisted. “No,” I said. * * * * * “And then,” I began again, “there’s the child. What about her? Left motherless.” “Well, and what about Rose herself?” Mrs. O’Gorman retorted. “She was motherless and fatherless too, and she grew into happiness and became a beautiful woman, thanks in some degree to some one who shall be nameless.” “But who,” I said, “might possibly be feeling not a little guilty over the way that things are turning out.” “But who, if he did so,” Mrs. O’Gorman added, “would be a very silly old boy.” “Do you hold me absolutely innocent then?” I asked. “Innocent of harm—yes,” she said. “Because there’s not the harm you seem to think. There’s social shipwreck, of course, but that’s nothing, because they’ll live abroad. There’s the Iceberg’s grief, but that doesn’t matter because he was never really in love. There’s little Rose—but she’s only five and will adjust herself. No, the only real sufferers will be the Captain’s father and mother, who, like all _nouveaux riches_, were thinking of a grand match for him. They’ll be very sore, and not unnaturally. But the world isn’t for fathers and mothers: it’s for sons and daughters.” “You are a cynical old woman,” I said, “and I’m ashamed of you. I’m almost sorry I’ve kept you alive so long.” “You didn’t,” she said. “If I’ve survived it’s been in spite of you.” “But what of Rose herself?” I asked. “How can this be any but harm to her?” “Because she’s happy,” she said. “She’s happy now—to-day—and she’s going to be happier once she’s on the sea, sailing away with her boy to make a new home together. She’s got something to squander herself on, and that’s happiness, even when the something isn’t worth it.” “But her child?” I returned to the point. “Her child will be all right, too. You—or some one else—will bring her up.”