"All good people think as I tell you they do." "Do Aunt Fanny and Uncle George blame my mother ?" "Of course.

How could they help it, when she----" Ruth was checked by the gathering lightnings in those violet-gray eyes.
"But," pursued Susan, after a pause, "even if they were wicked enough to blame my mother, they couldn't blame me." "Of course not," declared Ruth warmly.

"Hasn't everybody always been sweet and kind to you ?" "But last night you said----" Ruth hid her face.

"I'm ashamed of what I said last night," she murmured.

"I've got, Oh, such a _nasty_ disposition, Susie." "But what you said--wasn't it so ?" Ruth turned away her head.
Susan drew a long sigh, so quietly that Ruth could not have heard.
"You understand," Ruth said gently, "everybody feels sorry for you and----" Susan frowned stormily, "They'd better feel sorry for themselves." "Oh, Susie, dear," cried Ruth, impulsively catching her hand, "we all love you, and mother and father and I--we'll stand up for you through everything----" "Don't you _dare_ feel sorry for me!" Susan cried, wrenching her hand away.
Ruth's eyes filled with tears.
"You can't blame us because everybody---- You know, God says, 'The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children----'" "I'm done with everybody," cried Susan, rising and lifting her proud head, "I'm done with God." Ruth gave a low scream and shuddered.