Bookkeeper in the office of a
_factory_! Earn your own living! What _are_ you talking about! What
strange jest is this, my dear? For you certainly cannot be in earnest."
"Indeed I am not jesting, mother dear, but am very much in earnest. I
really want to earn money of my own, and shall be so much happier if I
have a regular occupation. And you want me to be happy, do you not?"
"I cannot understand you at all, Cecile. I really cannot. In my youth,
we of the south considered it a disgrace for a young lady to even dream
of earning her living. Your father left us plenty of money. I do not
know just how it was invested, for I never cared to trouble my head
about money matters. I preferred to leave all that to you and the
lawyers. Still, I know my income is quite sufficient for our wants. Even
if we should lose our money, there is Philippe to provide for us. He
would agree with me, I know. He would never, never allow his sister to
work for a living."
Of course Cecile had persisted in her resolution, and it grieved her to
feel that her mother had never become reconciled to what she considered
a mere whim.
Letters from Philippe came at occasional intervals, letters which were
carefully edited before she read them aloud to her mother. Gifts from
Philippe came too, just as they had always done, but now each gift meant
some added sacrifice for poor Cecile.
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