_The Woman:_ Well, then, I am forty, while you stand on the threshold of the adorable golden twenties. (Walks over to picture taken eighteen years before and contemplates it.) Ah, to be twenty again; to start anew, possessing my present learning and wisdom, and knowledge of the world; to avoid the pits into which I so carelessly stumbled! But no! _The Girl_: Mercy! what have you to wish for? Are not princes and ambassadors your friends; have you not health and wealth and beauty? You wish for something, you who are so handsome and brilliant! _The Woman_: Blinds, my dear Betty, only blinds; for that is all beauty and wealth and wit are. Who sees behind sees scars of many wounds. You are without a mother, I am without a child. (Sits down beside the girl and takes her hand in hers.) Will you let me be a mother to you for just this morning? How can any man help loving you! (impulsively.) _The Girl_: How foolish you are, Grace! _The Woman_: Ah, to blush like that! _The Girl_: You are very embarrassing this morning. I believe you are even sentimental. Well, my handsome mother for just this morning, what is it you have to say to me? (jestingly.) _The Woman_: I do not know just how to begin. Listen. If ever trouble should befall you, if ever misfortune should entangle you, will you promise to come to me? _The Girl:_ Misfortune? What is on your mind, Grace? _The Woman:_ Promise! _The Girl:_ I promise. (Laughs.) _The Woman:_ I am rich. Promise that if poverty should ever come to you, you will come to me. _The Girl_ (puzzled): I do not understand you at all! _The Woman:_ Promise! _The Girl:_ I promise; but-- _The Woman:_ Thank you, Betty. _The Girl_ (growing serious): What is all this about, Grace? You look so earnest. _The Woman:_ Some day you will understand. Will you answer me one question, as a daughter would answer her mother? _The Girl_ (gravely): Yes. _The Woman:_ Would you marry a title for the title's sake? _The Girl_ (indignantly): I? _The Woman:_ Yes; would you? _The Girl:_ I shall marry the man I love, and if not him, nobody. I mean, of course, _when_ I love. _The Woman:_ Blushing again? My dear, is Karloff anything to you? _The Girl:_ Karloff? Mercy, no. He is handsome and fascinating and rich, but I could not love him. It would be easier to love--to love my groom outside. (They both smile.) _The Woman_ (grave once more): That is all I wished to know, dear. Karloff is not worthy of you. _The Girl_ (sitting very erect): I do not understand. Is he not honorable? _The Woman_ (hesitating): I have known him for seven years; I have always found him honorable. _The Girl:_ Why, then, should he not be worthy of me? _The Woman_ (lightly): Is any man? _The Girl:_ You are parrying my question. If I am to be your daughter, there must be no fencing. _The Woman_ (rising and going over to the portrait again): There are some things that a mother may not tell even to her daughter.