“I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good as my word. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. She took up a book and threw it down again. You must wait till supper's over. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. If not, I'll convey him to St.
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