" "What faith is to be kept with a felon?" replied the woollen-draper, disdainfully. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. Gerald’s chest tightened. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. pgdp.
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