Explore "Patience Sparhawk and her Times" by Gertrude Atherton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The man was buried with Christian service at Miss Beale's expense, and her serene face wore no shadow. The following day she said to Patience: "I spent nearly all of the last two nights in prayer, and I almost heard the Lord's voice as He told me I did right."
"You ought to write a novel," said Patience, drily, but the sarcasm was lost. In a moment Patience forgot Miss Beale: the postman handed her two letters, and she went up to her room to read them.