She never hastened her step as she ascended the broad stairs within and went to her own little sitting-room, made gay with books and flowers and photographs from Rome.

Nor was her anger followed by any passionate outburst of tears.

She sat herself down by the window and looked out, letting the cool breeze from the open casement fan her face.
Hedwig, too, had passed through a violent scene that day, and, having conquered, she sat down to think over it.

She reflected that Benoni had but used the same words to her that she had daily heard from her father's lips.

False as was their accusation, she submitted to hearing her father speak them, for she had no knowledge of their import, and only thought him cruelly hard with her.