Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. ‘Certainly I can prove it. I will tell you what you shall give me, if you like.
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