“Because I hate you!” She spat. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. "No," rejoined Thames, "I won't be treated like a common felon, if I can help it. ” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. ” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively.
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