Children are very wise
intuitively; they know who loves them most, and who only pretends.

Then turn your eyes back on me,
and tell me that Cathy and I are still children to be treated with condescension, and are incapable of understanding adult subjects. We haven't
remained idle, twiddling our thumbs while you were off having a good time.

Go on, glare your eyes at me, and cry and plead, and talk to
me about money and what it can buy. But it can't buy back a child once he's dead!

Look at you, standing there in your iron- gray dress, feeling pious
and self- righteous while you starve small children!

Then turn your eyes back on me,
and tell me that Cathy and I are still children to be treated with condescension, and are incapable of understanding adult subjects.

Angel, saint, Devil's spawn, good or evil, you've got me pinned to the wall and labeled as yours until the day I die. And if you die first, then it won't be long before I follow.