Are you sure even that she wants to have you ?" Marcella's lip quivered.

She could not speak, apparently.

Waving her hand to her mother, she joined the maid waiting for her, and the two disappeared into the blackness.
"But _does_ it do any good ?" Mrs.Boyce repeated to herself as she went back to the drawing-room.

"_Sympathy!_ who was ever yet fed, warmed, comforted by _sympathy_?
Marcella robs that woman of the only thing that the human being should want at such a moment--solitude.

Why should we force on the poor what to us would be an outrage ?" Meanwhile Marcella battled through the wind and rain, thankful that the warm spring burst was over, and that the skies no longer mocked this horror which was beneath them.
At the entrance to the village she stopped, and took the basket from the little maid.
"Now, Ruth, you can go home.