She had been so hungry' and there was to be no satisfying that hunger this side the grave or beyond it.

She was going the same way as Betsy Sparrow, a death like a cow's, with nothing to show for life, nothing to leave.

Betsy had been a poor crushed creature, and had looked for no more.

But she was different.

She had been promised something, something fine--she couldn't remember what, or who had promised it, but it had never been out of her mind.
There was the ring, too.