The painted object shrivelled underneath her hand; the form collapsed, the hair dropped off, the arched dark eyebrows changed to scanty tufts of grey; the pale lips shrunk, the skin became cadaverous and loose; an old, worn, yellow, nodding woman, with red eyes, alone remained in Cleopatra's place, huddled up, like a slovenly bundle, in a greasy flannel gown.
The very voice was changed, as it addressed Edith, when they were alone again.
'Why don't you tell me,' it said sharply, 'that he is coming here to-morrow by appointment ?' 'Because you know it,' returned Edith, 'Mother.' The mocking emphasis she laid on that one word! 'You know he has bought me,' she resumed.

'Or that he will, to-morrow.
He has considered of his bargain; he has shown it to his friend; he is even rather proud of it; he thinks that it will suit him, and may be had sufficiently cheap; and he will buy to-morrow.

God, that I have lived for this, and that I feel it!' Compress into one handsome face the conscious self-abasement, and the burning indignation of a hundred women, strong in passion and in pride; and there it hid itself with two white shuddering arms.
'What do you mean ?' returned the angry mother.

'Haven't you from a child--' 'A child!' said Edith, looking at her, 'when was I a child?
What childhood did you ever leave to me?
I was a woman--artful, designing, mercenary, laying snares for men--before I knew myself, or you, or even understood the base and wretched aim of every new display I learnt You gave birth to a woman.

Look upon her.