"You are the comfort of my life, Effie. If you make up your mind to go away, what is to become of me?"
The speaker was a middle-aged woman. She was lying on a sofa in a shabby little parlor. The sofa was covered with horse-hair, the room had a faded paper, and faded chintz covered the shabby furniture. The woman's pleading words were emphasized by her tired eyes and worn face. She looked full at the young girl to whom she spoke.
"What shall I do without you, and what will your father say?"
"I have made up my mind," said Effie. "I don't want to be unkind to you, mother,—I love you more than words can say,—but I must go out into the world. I must live my life like other girls."
"You had none of these ideas until you met Dorothy Fraser."

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