"What weight are these irons?" asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. "A hundred dollars which was left from your husband's money. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. “These are for you. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. I want to be myself.
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