"She mustn't stop here," Becky reasoned with herself. "She must go away, the silly little fool. She is still whimpering after that gaby of a husband--dead (and served right!) these fifteen years. She shan't marry either of these men. It's too bad of Loder. No; she shall marry the bamboo cane, I'll settle it this very night."

"She mustn't stay here," Becky thought. "She must go away, the silly little fool. She is still whimpering after that gaby of a dead husband. She shan't marry either of these men. It's too bad of Loder. No; she shall marry the bamboo cane. I'll settle it this very night."
