“Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. “And now, look at us! See what we have become. It would be swindling. Teddy overtook her, a little out of breath, his innocent face flushed, his straw-colored hair disordered. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said.
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