And Amy had had money to spend! Susette's wardrobe was "simply pathetic!" And often, sitting in the Park and watching on the road nearby the endless procession of automobiles and the women like Amy so daintily clad, and puzzling and remembering innumerable little things from her first gay month in town--in Ethel's mind the picture of the sister she had adored began to change a little, and to lose its hold upon her.

Amy beautiful, indolent toward Susette and the household; Amy tense, with a jealous, vigilant light in her eyes, when it was a matter of Joe and her love or the money so passionately desired.
But these recollections she would dismiss with excuses for her sister.
"There are two kinds of women," Ethel sagely told herself.

"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.