Chapter 12

But though she was not afraid of death she was not indifferent to it. She found that she _resented_ it; it was not fair that she should have to die when she had never lived. Rebellion flamed up in her soul as the dark hours passed by—not because she had no future but because she had no past. “I’m poor—I’m ugly—I’m a failure—and I’m near death,” she thought. She could see her own obituary notice in the Deerwood _Weekly Times_, copied into the Port Lawrence _Journal_. “A deep gloom was cast over Deerwood, etc., etc.”…