Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. ” “Borrow the money! But who lent you the money?” “A friend,” said Ann Veronica.
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