Kitty hesitated: "I think he will come to Berrytown again. There is some business there which his wife's death will leave him free now to attend to."
She went to a sofa and sat down: "I shall be glad to be at home," beginning to cry. "I want to see father."
"Broke down utterly," the chaplain told his wife, "as soon as her terrible work was done."
As for Kitty, it seemed to her that her work in life and death was over for ever.
"You must come back," she said when McCall put her in the cars, looking like a ghost of herself. "Your father will be wanting to see you. And—and Maria."
"Maria? What the deuce is Maria to me?"
It was no ghost of Kitty that came home that evening. The shy, lively color came and went unceasingly, and her eyes sparkled.
"Poor Maria!" she whispered to her pillow as she went to bed—"poor Maria!"