In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Just go about with him. I’ve had my time and lost my chances. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy.
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