As she said that, right before my eyes rose that box of chocolates she made me eat one at a time; but, of course, I didn't say anything! Besides, Mother hurried right on talking.
She said things went on worse and worse--and it was all her fault.

She grew sour and cross and disagreeable.

She could see now that she did.
But she did not realize at all then what she was doing.

She was just thinking of herself--always herself; her rights, her wrongs, her hurt feelings, her wants and wishes.

She never once thought that _he_ had rights and wrongs and hurt feelings, maybe.
And so the tarnish kept growing more and more.