ve both been--you've all three been--_most_
good and kind to me, and I shall always remember it and be grateful. You
may be sure I shan't love you any the less because I shall live in
Paris and you at Evreux. And I do beg of you to feel the same to me. I
shall never forget what I owe to you. Father was only your friend; we're
not related in any way: but you took me in, and for four years you've
treated me as if I was your daughter. From my very heart I'm grateful to
you.

GUERET [_affectionately_] You don't owe us much, you know. For two years
you were a boarder at the Lycee Maintenon, and we saw nothing of you but
your letters. You've only actually lived with us for two years, and
you've been like sunshine in the house.

MADAME GUERET. Yes, indeed.

THERESE. I've thought this carefully over. I'm twenty-three. I won't be
a burden to you any longer.

GUERET. Is that because you are too proud and independent?

THERESE. If I thought I could really be of use to you, I would stay with
you. If I could help you to face your troubles, I would stay with you.
But I can't, and I mean to shift for myself.

MADAME GUERET. And you think you can "shift for yourself," as you call
it, all alone?

THERESE. Yes, godmamma.

MADAME GUERET. A young girl, all alone, in Paris! The thing is
inconceivable.

GUERET. But, my poor child, how do you propose to live?

THERESE. I'll work.

MADAME GUERET. You don't mean that seriously?

THERESE. Yes, godmamma.

GUERET. You think you have only to ask for work and it will fall from
the skies!

THERESE. I have a few dollars in my purse which will keep me until I
have found something.

FELIAT. Your purse will be empty before you've made a cent.

THERESE. I'm sure it won't.

GUERET. Now, my dear, you're tired, and nervous, and upset. You can't
look at things calmly. We can talk about this again to-morrow.

THERESE. Yes, godpapa. But I shan't have changed my mind.

MADAME GUERET. I know you have a strong will of your own.

FELIAT. Let us talk sensibly and reasonably. You propose to live all
alone in Paris. Good. Where will you live?

THERESE. I shall hire a little flat--or a room somewhere.

MADAME GUERET. Like a workgirl.

THERESE. Like a workgirl. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that.

FELIAT. And you are going to earn your own living. How?

THERESE. I shall work. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that, either.

GUERET. I see. But a properly brought up young lady doe