human
There are two kinds of women, Ethel sagely told herself.
gpt
Mothers and wives. And she was a wife. It may be I'm a mother. And little by little, in spite of herself, her worship of her sister changed to a pitying tolerance. The question,
human
Shall I ever be like that? --once so full of eagerness--had already been answered unconsciously.
gpt
Poor Amy, she's dead. She lived her life. I'm going to live another.
human
What's your life to be, you poor little dear? And if you don't worry, why should I!