"But, Squire, is there no mercy, no chance held out to the woman who

has been unfortunate?"

"Anna, these arguments don't sound well from a proper behaving young

woman like you. I know it's the fashion nowadays for good women to

talk about mercy to their fallen sisters, but it's a mistake. When a

woman falls, she loses her right to respect, and that's the end of it."

She turned her face to the storm and the softly falling flakes were no

whiter than her face.

As Anna turned to leave the room on some pretext, she saw Kate coming

in with a huge bunch of Jacqueminot roses in her hand. Of course,

Sanderson had sent them. The perfume of them sickened Anna, as the

odor of a charnel house might have done. She tried to smile bravely

at Kate, who smiled back triumphantly as she went in to show her uncle

the flowers. But the sight of them was like the turning of a knife in

a festering wound.

Anna made her way to the kitchen. Dave was sitting there smoking.

Anna found strength and sustenance in his mere presence, though she did

not say a word to him, but he was such a faithful soul. Good, honest

Dave.




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