It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. Kneebone. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Fifty pupils. That’s probably true. I’ve tried to use my authority. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. "My sister the wife of one condemned felon! the parent of another! It cannot be. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire.
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