"I know what she's thinking about.

She's going to draw that money that grandmama left her--that fifty pounds.

I guessed she'd spend that on herself one of these days." "And who else was it left to ?" asked Sally.
"Yes, my dear child," said her mother; "we know it was left to you, of course; but since we came away from Cailsham"-- her mouth pursed; she admirably conveyed the effort of controlling her emotions--the lump in the throat, the hasty swallowing and the blinking eyes--"since we left Cailsham, I'd sometimes hoped--" "Of course you had, mater," said the young man sympathetically.
"But I'm going to relieve you of all responsibility," said Sally.
"I'm no longer going to be an expense to you, and I'm going to do it with my own money--the money I was given and the money I make.
I can't see what right you have to think me selfish--all of you--as I know you do.

I'm no more selfish than you who expect me to spend the money on you; in fact, I'm less selfish.

It's my money." This, in a word, is the spirit, the attitude of mind that is entering into the mental composition of women.