” The lady stood away from the door. No means were neglected to accomplish this end. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father.
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