"Mom, our family isn't as well-off as we used to be. You don't have to get all dressed up every day. Even if you make yourself look stunning, there's no one to see it." Eleanor Bishop's head throbbed as she listened.
Yara Ross's face turned ashen, and her eyes reddened. She snapped, "Eleanor Bishop, is that any way to talk to your mother? You can't even earn enough money, and now you have the nerve to look down on me?"
"I'm not looking down on you. I just don't want the money I earn every day to be wasted on useless things." 'If it weren't for her spendthrift habits,' she thought, 'we wouldn't be in a position where, after all my years of working, we can't even scrape together a single month's living expenses.'
"And you say you're not looking down on me! Eleanor Bishop, do you think I *want* to spend your money? If I didn't have to stay home and take care of your father, I wouldn't be trapped here day after day."
