The Land of Promise by D. Torbett
page 44 of 276 (15%)
page 44 of 276 (15%)
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"Miss Wickham has left me nothing," said Nora in a dead voice. Miss Pringle gave a positive wail of anguish. "Oh-h-h-h." "Not a penny. Oh, it's cruel!" the girl said, almost wildly. "After all," she went on bitterly, "there was no need for her to leave me anything. She gave me board and lodging and thirty pounds a year. If I stayed it was because I chose. But she needn't have promised me anything. She needn't have prevented me from marrying." "My dear, you could never have married that little assistant. He wasn't a gentleman," Miss Pringle reminded her. "Ten years! The ten best years of a woman's life, when other girls are enjoying themselves. And what did I get for it? Board and lodging and thirty pounds a year. A cook does better than that." "We can't expect to make as much money as a good cook," said Miss Pringle, with touching and unconscious pathos. "One has to pay something for living like a lady among people of one's own class." "Oh, it's cruel!" Nora could only repeat. "My dear," said Miss Pringle with an effort at consolation, "don't give way. I'm sure you'll have no difficulty in finding another situation. You wash lace beautifully and no one can arrange flowers like you." Nora sank wearily into a chair. "And I was dreaming of France and Italy--I shall spend ten years more with an old lady, and then she'll |
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