"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. ‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. . “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. A girl of fifteen or sixteen gave her a handbill that she regarded as a tract until she saw “Votes for Women” at the top.
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