“Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. Instinctively she imitated this action, chilled and a little frightened at the expression of terror that confronted her. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. "Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch.
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