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The Real Adventure by Henry Kitchell Webster
page 68 of 717 (09%)
That night, during the process of getting ready for bed, Rose put on a
bath-robe, picked up her hair brush and went into Portia's room. Portia,
much quicker always about such matters, was already on the point of
turning out the light, but guessing what her sister wanted, she stacked
her pillows, lighted a cigarette, climbed into bed and settled back
comfortably for a chat.

"I hope," Rose began, "that you're really pleased about it. Because
mother isn't. She's terribly unhappy. Do you suppose it's because she
thinks I've--well, sort of deserted her, in not going on and being a
lawyer--and all that?"

"Oh, perhaps," said Portia indifferently. "I wouldn't worry about that,
though. Because really, child, you had no more chance of growing up to
be a lawyer and a leader of the 'Cause' than I have of getting to be a
brigadier-general."

Rose stopped brushing her hair and demanded to be told why not. She had
been getting on all right up to now, hadn't she?

"Why, just think," said Portia, "what mother herself had gone through
when she was your age; put herself through college because her father
didn't believe in 'higher education'--practically disowned her. She'd
taught six months in that awful school--remember?--she was used to being
abused and ridiculed. And she was working hard enough to have killed a
camel. But you!... Why, Lamb, you've never really _had_ to do anything
in your life. If you felt like it, all right--and equally all right if
you didn't. You've never been hurt--never even been frightened. You
wouldn't know what they felt like. And the result is ..."

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