"Are there--" Miss Charlotte began, and broke down. "Are there," she
tried again, "are there--any--children?"

"Ah, my dear, if there were, I might be tempted to repent."

"Don't you?" jerked out Miss Bunce, turning abruptly from the window.
There was a certain sharp emotion in the question, but her face was
in the shadow. Joanna regarded her for a moment or two and broke
into a laugh.

"My dears, I have been an actress and a mother. I retain the pride
of both,--though my little one died at three months, and no manager
will engage me now, because I refuse to act unless my husband has a
part. Theoretically, he is the first of artists; in practice--
You were asking, however, if I repent. Well, having touched the two
chief prizes within a woman's grasp, I hardly see how it is likely.
I perceive that the object of my visit has been misinterpreted.
To be frank, I came to gloat over you."

"Your step-sisters are at least respectable," Miss Bunce answered.

"Let us grant that to be a merit," retorted Joanna: "Do I understand
you to claim the credit of it?"

"They are very clean, though," she went on, looking from one to the
other, "and well preserved. Susan, I notice, shows signs of failing;
she has dropped her spectacles into the teacup. But to what end,
Miss--"

"Bunce."