"You could send me oranges."
"No, Kate, no!" Carrie launched herself into Kate's arms. "I'll never leave you! I'll try to show my gratitude for all you've done for me! I'll never desert you in your loneliness!"
"I'll miss you like anything, Carrie, but I have Joe and Evelyn and Hope, and Charlotte and her children. I won't have a chance to be lonely. And I'm going to be very busy now. I'm going to paint again. You've thought of other people all your life; now think of yourself for a change."
And she has, too, Kate told herself, guiltily, because she longed so for an empty house, an empty studio. Of course I love poor Carrie, but, after all, he's her brother. Not to have to worry about anything for meals but tea and bread and butter and salad; not to have to talk in the middle of adding up accounts or when she wanted to read; to have the bathroom to herself. Above all, to have weeks, months, free for her painting.
"Emma and I were always very congenial. I don't believe I'd be any trouble to them. And what I could pay would help them, wouldn't it? Because, of course, I'd insist. I mean, Will's wonderful—it isn't just because he's my brother, Kate, but anyway, what I mean is, he's always been too—well, I don't know what. I guess he don't know how to push, and you have to know how to push to get on in business. But I don't know"
