“I don’t know where to go to. I haven't touched the other. I never forgive an injury. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. Courtlaw stood up. Lucy was silent. Pause.
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