Lottie was at war with herself. Mother Lottie and her rose tinted vision of the past wanted to embrace her young daughter and hug the sadness out of her, but the older embittered and life-hardened Lottie stood steadfast basking in the inner smugness that her instincts and experiences with men had been right.

Lottie saw more than a bit of herself in the youthful tears; that youthful independent streak and desire to make her own way. She also noted the raw questions her daughter asked. Ruth was right, Lottie conceded but she bloody well wouldn't admit that to Ruth aloud. Mother Lottie was sad. Lottie noticed her dear husband had slipped into the room, so paused to see if he had something to add.