” Ennison took the document, tore it half in two without looking at it, and flung it back in Hill’s face. “You poor little girl!” he cried. ’ There was a pause. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. "Yes. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her.
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