Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. She had underestimated his animal ability to sense weakness. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop.
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