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' By this time the
servant was gone, and the two were seated alone together in the
parlour. Dorothy, who had not as yet swallowed above half her wine, at
once put the glass down. There was an importance in her aunt's tone
which frightened her, and made her feel that some evil was coming. And
yet, as she had made up her mind that she must return home, there was
no further evil that she need dread. 'You didn't write any of those
horrid articles?' said Miss Stanbury.
'No, aunt; I didn't write them. I shouldn't know how.'
'And I hope you'll never learn. They say women are to vote, and become
doctors, and if so, there's no knowing what devil's tricks they mayn't
do. But it isn't your fault about that filthy newspaper. How he can let
himself down to write stuff that is to be printed on straw is what I
can't understand.'
'I don't see how it can make a difference as he writes it.'
'It would make a great deal of difference to me. And I'm told that what
they call ink comes off on your fingers like lamp-black.


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