"You sold my--_you sold my beads!_ Beryl Lynch, how _dared_ you.
My--my--"
Beryl stared at her. She could not speak for sheer amazement.
"My beads! They--were--the last--thing--I--had that
held--me--to--my--dreams." Her voice died off in a heart-broken whisper
that hurt Beryl to the soul.
"Mother! Mother, _please_ don't. It isn't too late. I can get them
back. I didn't know you cared, don't you see?"
Beryl of course did not know about the pulling ache at the back of
Mother Moira's neck or she would have understood that her mother's
hysteria was due partly to that. She had never seen her mother look so
queer and old and pale and it frightened her.
Mrs. Lynch crossed the room until she stood behind Danny's chair.
Involuntarily her hand moved to his shoulder.
"No, you wouldn't know. It isn't your fault. Of course it's just beads
they were, but they belonged to the young part of me when my heart was
that light and full of beautiful dreams and so strong that it hurt the
inside of me. And nothing in this world was too fine for the likes of my
Danny and me. And we thought 'twas just ours for the asking.
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