'
'No, because she has too much love for her mother. I can't bear
to talk to you, Maud. The older I get, and the weaker I get, the
more unfeeling you are to me.'
Scenes of this kind were no uncommon thing. The clash of tempers
lasted for several minutes, then Maud flung out of the room. An
hour later, at dinner-time, she was rather more caustic in her
remarks than usual, but this was the only sign that remained of
the stormy mood.
Jasper renewed the breakfast-table conversation.
'Look here,' he began, 'why don't you girls write something? I'm
convinced you could make money if you tried. There's a tremendous
sale for religious stories; why not patch one together? I am
quite serious.'
'Why don't you do it yourself,' retorted Maud.
'I can't manage stories, as I have told you; but I think you
could. In your place, I'd make a speciality of Sunday-school
prize-books; you know the kind of thing I mean. They sell like
hot cakes. And there's so deuced little enterprise in the
business. If you'd give your mind to it, you might make hundreds
a year.'
'Better say "abandon your mind to it.
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