father."

"I've been very good, haven't I?" said Zora. "I've been the model young
widow and lived as demurely as if my heart were breaking with sorrow. But
now, I can't stand it any longer. I'm going out to see the world."

"You'll soon marry again, dear, and that's one comfort."

Zora brought her hands down passionately to her sides.

"Never. Never--do you hear, mother? Never. I'm going out into the world, to
get to the heart of the life I've never known. I'm going to live."

"I don't see how you are going to 'live,' dear, without a man to take care
of you," said Mrs. Oldrieve, on whom there occasionally flashed an eternal
verity.

"I hate men. I hate the touch of them--the very sight of them. I'm going to
have nothing more to do with them for the rest of my natural life. My dear
mother!" and her voice broke, "haven't I had enough to do with men and
marriage?"

"All men aren't like Edward Middlemist," Mrs. Oldrieve argued as she
counted the rows of her knitting.

"How am I to know that? How could anyone have told that he was what he was?
For heaven's sake don't talk of it. I had almost forgotten it all in this
place."

She shuddered and, turning to the window, stared into the sunset.