Remember to support your ideas with details from the writing. Read the following extract from The Widow's Might (by Charlotte Perkins Gilman), and then answer the question that follows it: 'Maybe there's some left after all,' suggested Adelaide. 'And this place ought to sell for something.' 'This place' was a piece of rolling land within ten miles of Denver. It had a bit of river bottom, and ran up towards the foothills. From the house the view ran north and south along the precipitous ranks of the 'Big Rockies' to westward. To the east lay the vast stretches of sloping plain. 'There ought to be at least six or eight thousand dollars from it, I should say,' he concluded. 'Speaking of clothes,' Adelaide rather irrelevantly suggested, 'I see Mother didn't get any new black. She's always worn it as long as I can remember.' 'Mother's a long time,' said Ellen. 'I wonder if she wants anything, I'll go up and see.' 'No,' said Adelaide, 'She said she wanted to be let alone—and rest. She said she'd be down by the time Mr Frankland got here.' 'She's bearing it pretty well,' Ellen suggested, after a little silence. 'It's not like a broken heart,' Adelaide explained. 'Of course Father meant well—' 'He was a man who always did his duty,' admitted Ellen. 'But we none of us—loved him—very much.’ 'He is dead and buried,' said James. 'We can at least respect his memory.' 'We've hardly seen Mother—under that black veil.' Ellen went on. 'It must have aged her. This long nursing.' 'She had help toward the last—a man nurse,' said Adelaide. 'Yes, but a long illness is an awful strain—and Mother never was good at nursing. She has surely done her duty,' pursued Ellen. 'And now she's entitled to a rest,' said James, rising and walking about the room. 'I wonder how soon we can close up affairs here—and get rid of this place. There might be enough in it to give her almost a living- properly invested.' Ellen looked out across the dusty stretches of land. 'How I did hate to live here!' she said. 'So did I,' said Adelaide. 'So did I,' said James. And they all smiled rather grimly. 'We don't any of us seem to be very—affectionate, about Mother,' Adelaide presently admitted, 'I don't know why it is— we never were an affectionate family, I guess.' 'Nobody could be affectionate with Father,' Ellen suggested timidly. 'And Mother—poor Mother! She's had an awful life.' 'Mother has always done her duty,' said James in a determined voice, 'and so did Father, as he saw it. Now we'll do ours.' 'Ah,' exclaimed Ellen, jumping to her feet. 'Here comes the lawyer, I'll call Mother.' She ran quickly upstairs and tapped at her mother's door. 'Mother, oh Mother,' she cried. ‘Mr Frankland's come.' 'I know it,' came back a voice from within. 'Tell him to go ahead and read the will. I know what's in it. I'll be down in a few minutes.' Ellen went slowly back downstairs with the fine criss-cross of wrinkles showing on her pale forehead again, and delivered her mother's message. How does Gilman make this such a revealing and significant moment in the story?