” Ann Veronica hesitated, and then stood in the open doorway and regarded her father’s stern presence. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. ” “Only you won’t let me live. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. ” Elizabeth, the parlormaid, kept coming in to hand vegetables whenever there seemed a chance of Ann Veronica asking for an interview. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. Turning, she flew for the nearest door.
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