A door stood open, and within she saw the attendant upon the girl she had just left; the maid with the curious name.
She stood still, to look at this maid.

A sullen, passionate girl! Her rich black hair was all about her face, her face was flushed and hot, and as she sobbed and raged, she plucked at her lips with an unsparing hand.
'Selfish brutes!' said the girl, sobbing and heaving between whiles.
'Not caring what becomes of me! Leaving me here hungry and thirsty and tired, to starve, for anything they care! Beasts! Devils! Wretches!' 'My poor girl, what is the matter ?' She looked up suddenly, with reddened eyes, and with her hands suspended, in the act of pinching her neck, freshly disfigured with great scarlet blots.

'It's nothing to you what's the matter.

It don't signify to any one.' 'O yes it does; I am sorry to see you so.' 'You are not sorry,' said the girl.

'You are glad.