’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. " "Wonderful! It's an infernal shame. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively.
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