His frail body and towering ambition, his
loveless life that knew not what it missed, roused in her a pity
almost maternal. A fierce resentment rose within her against herself,
for not loving him as she knew a husband should be loved. If he had
only won her with his heart instead of his head!
The door bell rang and Miss Lady glanced up apprehensively.
"It was the pickle woman," announced Myrtella, coming in a moment
later from the hall. "I sent her about her business."
"Not Miss Ferney!" cried Miss Lady, springing up and rushing out to
call her.
Miss Ferney Foster with much difficulty was persuaded to return and
sit on the edge of a hall chair. On New Year's in the past she had
always made a formal call at Thornwood and presented the Colonel with
a sample of her best wares. The Colonel in turn had invariably sent
down cellar for one of the cobwebbiest bottles on the swinging shelf
and bestowed it upon her with great gallantry. The indignity of having
been refused admittance at the house of the Colonel's daughter was
almost more than she could bear.
"Now, tell me about everybody out home," demanded Miss Lady eagerly.
"Begin at the bottom of the hill and go right straight up.
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