Amazing Grace, Who Proves That Virtue Has Its Silver Lining. Kate Trimble Sharber
was doing wrong not to say so. "I am awfully sorry to disappoint you."
"Then you have decided finally?" mother asked in a suspicious voice.
"I believe I have," I answered. "Oh, please don't look at me that way—and please don't cry! I can't help it!"
"It is preposterous," Guilford said shortly.
"But you don't—understand!" I cried, turning to him pleadingly. "You don't know what it is to feel as I feel about those lovers—those people who had no happiness in this world—and are haunted and tormented by curiosity in their very graves!—don't you suppose I want to do the thing you and mother want me to do? Of course, I do! I want this—this new piano—and another brown tweed skirt that doesn't bag at the knees—and I want—so many things!"
"Then why in the name of——" he began.
"Because I won't!" I told him flatly. "Call it conscience—fancy, or what you will!—I have those two people in my power—their secrets are right here in my hands! And I'm not going to give them away!"
"Grace, you a-maze me!" mother sobbed.
But Guilford rose tranquilly and reached for his hat.
"Any woman who has a conscience like that ought to cauterize it—with a curling-iron—and get rid of it," he observed dryly.
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