"Mary. What will you do if Stephen Purceville comes to call on you
today?" Mary knew better than to ask why he would. So far as her
mother was concerned, there was no such thing as coincidence. She
thought for a moment, then replied honestly.
"I don't know. He is, after all, my brother."
"Half-brother," the old woman hissed. "And not the better half,
remember that." The girl did not like, and could not understand, her
mother's tone.
"Margaret," she said flatly. "If you did not want us to meet, you
would not have arranged his coming here. You show me one path, then
chastise me for taking it. At least tell me what it is you want, so I
can make an intelligent choice."
"What I want," she repeated thoughtfully, as if regretting her earlier
outburst. "For now all I want is that you should meet, and let nature
take it's course."
Again Mary felt hostility rising inside her. She wanted to love this
woman, and help her if she could. But not as a puppet, and not
in that way. "Nature's course! Are you suggesting that I---"
"Easy, lass.
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