Had Rose been, indeed, her daughter, and she had possessed her from the cradle to womanhood, she would probably have been as other mothers, but now Rose was to her as the infant she had never borne.

She felt the intense jealousy of ownership which the mother feels over the baby in her arms.

She wished to snatch Rose from every clasp except her own.
She decided at once that it was easy to see through the plans of Horace and her husband, and she determined to thwart them.

"I don't see why she shouldn't go," she said.

"It is a lovely afternoon.