Michelle stopped by the Beck’s after school that day. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study.
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