a dear friend. Exactly as he felt toward Dr. Melvin Steffington.
Yet today, when his simmering gaze had so slowly raked over her breasts, she felt as if she had stood there completely naked. He had never looked at her in such a way before.
"I hope you do not mind," said Glee, "if we go by Blanks's solicitor's place of business."
"I am just happy for a warm, dry ride."
"I don't know about it actually being warm. I wish I'd brought my muff."
Miss Arbuckle thought of Glee's ermine muff. But without envy. She had long ago schooled herself not to want for that which she could not have. She stuffed her gloved hands into the quilted silken muff she had made for herself with scraps given her by Glee's sister, Felicity.
"I am sure I will be warm enough when you go in to see the solicitor."
"Oh, I'm not going to actually see the solicitor. I just want to see that the little urchin there is warm enough. And his mother, too. I told you about her sad condition before, did I not?"
"The woman whose life is governed by gin?"
A look of incredible sadness passed over Glee's face. "For four years now we've been trying to bring Mrs. A. into service for us. Then I would know her little Archie is being properly cared for."
"But she knows she is unable to give up her wicked liquid sustenance?"
Glee nodded solemnly. "At the time we married, Blanks swore that she had one foot already in the grave, but she's still alive—though I declare you've never seen anyone who's more thin than she is."
Moments later, Miss Arbuckle was able to verify the veracity of Glee's statement when the carriage pulled up in front of the establishment where Mrs. A. cleaned. When Mrs. A. was lucid enough to know where she was supposed to be.
Miss Arbuckle sickened as she watched the frail young woman come ambling down the front steps, her young son attempting to hold her up. Miss Arbuckle had never seen a skinnier woman. Her arms—even though covered by many layers of tattered clothing—were barely bigger around than a billiards stick, and her face so thin it more closely resembled a skeleton than a woman in her twenties. Her hair was filthy, like the rest of her, and it was difficult to speculate what colour it had once been. Perhaps a dark blonde? Upon her feet were a man's boots that were not only much too large for her, but they were also punctured by holes.
So young to die , Miss Arbuckle thought of the young mother.
"I am pleased to see Archie wearing the warm boots and coat I bought for him, but his mother must have sold the woolen cape I got her."
Miss Arbuckle could not bear to look at the unfortunate woman. She turned back to Glee and spoke somberly. "Sold it to buy gin, no doubt. Will you get her another?"
"I can't have her freeze to death."
The coach continued on. "I don't need to stop," Glee said. "I was worried about Archie, but I'm satisfied his mother didn't sell his warm coat."
"You surely did not expect a mother to deprive her child!"
Glee answered with a morose nod. "It wouldn't be the first time. She sold his coat last winter. I wanted so gravely to bring the lad to live with us, but he's . . ." She sadly shook her head. "He's very attached to her. It's more like she's his child—rather than the other way around."
Seeing the plight of little Archie and his mother reinforced Mary's gratitude that she had been born to a middle-class family, reinforced her contentment with her meager lot in life.
She wiped the fogginess from the window and peered out as the coach rattled along in front of Bath Cathedral.
"You will never guess who I saw in Bath yesterday," Glee exclaimed. "Well not to where I'd speak to him—which I wouldn't—but from a distance."
"I know of no one whom you excessively dislike."
"Yes, you do, but she will be in prison for a very long while. In fact, she's fortunate she wasn't hanged."
Miss Arbuckle's eyes widened. "You must have seen that evil Miss Johnson's father, but did you not know she died in prison? In
Yet today, when his simmering gaze had so slowly raked over her breasts, she felt as if she had stood there completely naked. He had never looked at her in such a way before.
"I hope you do not mind," said Glee, "if we go by Blanks's solicitor's place of business."
"I am just happy for a warm, dry ride."
"I don't know about it actually being warm. I wish I'd brought my muff."
Miss Arbuckle thought of Glee's ermine muff. But without envy. She had long ago schooled herself not to want for that which she could not have. She stuffed her gloved hands into the quilted silken muff she had made for herself with scraps given her by Glee's sister, Felicity.
"I am sure I will be warm enough when you go in to see the solicitor."
"Oh, I'm not going to actually see the solicitor. I just want to see that the little urchin there is warm enough. And his mother, too. I told you about her sad condition before, did I not?"
"The woman whose life is governed by gin?"
A look of incredible sadness passed over Glee's face. "For four years now we've been trying to bring Mrs. A. into service for us. Then I would know her little Archie is being properly cared for."
"But she knows she is unable to give up her wicked liquid sustenance?"
Glee nodded solemnly. "At the time we married, Blanks swore that she had one foot already in the grave, but she's still alive—though I declare you've never seen anyone who's more thin than she is."
Moments later, Miss Arbuckle was able to verify the veracity of Glee's statement when the carriage pulled up in front of the establishment where Mrs. A. cleaned. When Mrs. A. was lucid enough to know where she was supposed to be.
Miss Arbuckle sickened as she watched the frail young woman come ambling down the front steps, her young son attempting to hold her up. Miss Arbuckle had never seen a skinnier woman. Her arms—even though covered by many layers of tattered clothing—were barely bigger around than a billiards stick, and her face so thin it more closely resembled a skeleton than a woman in her twenties. Her hair was filthy, like the rest of her, and it was difficult to speculate what colour it had once been. Perhaps a dark blonde? Upon her feet were a man's boots that were not only much too large for her, but they were also punctured by holes.
So young to die , Miss Arbuckle thought of the young mother.
"I am pleased to see Archie wearing the warm boots and coat I bought for him, but his mother must have sold the woolen cape I got her."
Miss Arbuckle could not bear to look at the unfortunate woman. She turned back to Glee and spoke somberly. "Sold it to buy gin, no doubt. Will you get her another?"
"I can't have her freeze to death."
The coach continued on. "I don't need to stop," Glee said. "I was worried about Archie, but I'm satisfied his mother didn't sell his warm coat."
"You surely did not expect a mother to deprive her child!"
Glee answered with a morose nod. "It wouldn't be the first time. She sold his coat last winter. I wanted so gravely to bring the lad to live with us, but he's . . ." She sadly shook her head. "He's very attached to her. It's more like she's his child—rather than the other way around."
Seeing the plight of little Archie and his mother reinforced Mary's gratitude that she had been born to a middle-class family, reinforced her contentment with her meager lot in life.
She wiped the fogginess from the window and peered out as the coach rattled along in front of Bath Cathedral.
"You will never guess who I saw in Bath yesterday," Glee exclaimed. "Well not to where I'd speak to him—which I wouldn't—but from a distance."
"I know of no one whom you excessively dislike."
"Yes, you do, but she will be in prison for a very long while. In fact, she's fortunate she wasn't hanged."
Miss Arbuckle's eyes widened. "You must have seen that evil Miss Johnson's father, but did you not know she died in prison? In
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