I can tell you I've had to bear pretty well everything and it's a miracle I didn't kick the bucket over it, like Daddy and Mamma." This time Muffat, who was playing with his knife in a state of infinite exasperation, made so bold as to intervene.
"What you're telling us isn't very cheerful." "Eh, what?
Not cheerful!" she cried with a withering glance.

"I believe you; it isn't cheerful! Somebody had to earn a living for us dear boy.
Oh yes, you know, I'm the right sort; I don't mince matters.

Mamma was a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he died of it! There! If it doesn't suit you--if you're ashamed of my family--" They all protested.

What was she after now?
They had every sort of respect for her family! But she went on: "If you're ashamed of my family you'll please leave me, because I'm not one of those women who deny their father and mother.

You must take me and them together, d'you understand ?" They took her as required; they accepted the dad, the mamma, the past; in fact, whatever she chose.