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           Perhapshiskindofmanhadnevercomewithinherkenbefore,andthiswaswhyhethrewheroff-balance.AverynovelconceptionofJustineenteredhermindatthatmoment:herdaughtercouldactuallyrelateeasilytomenlikeRainerMoerlingHartheim!ShethoughtofJustineasafellowwomanatlast.

           Thoughagingandwhite-hairedshewasstillverybeautiful,hewasthinkingwhileshesatgazingathimpolitely;hewasstillsurprisedthatshelookednotatalllikeJustine,asDanehadsostronglyresembledtheCardinal.Howterriblylonelyshemustbe!Yethecouldn’tfeelsorryforherinthewayhedidforJustine;clearly,shehadcometotermswithherself.

           "HowisJustine?"sheasked.

           Heshrugged."I’mafraidIdon’tknow.Ihaven’tseenhersincebeforeDanedied."

           Shedidn’tdisplayastonishment."Ihaven’tseenhermyselfsinceDane’sfuneral,"shesaid,andsighed."I’dhopedshewouldcomehome,butitbeginstolookasifsheneverwill."

           Hemadeasoothingnoisewhichshedidn’tseemtohear,forshewentonspeaking,butinadifferentvoice,moretoherselfthantohim.

           "Droghedaislikeahomefortheagedthesedays,"shesaid."Weneedyoungblood,andJustine’sistheonlyyoungbloodleft."

           Pitydesertedhim;heleanedforwardquickly,eyesglittering."YouspeakofherasifsheisachattelofDrogheda,"hesaid,hisvoicenowharsh."Iserveyounotice,Mrs.O’Neill,sheisnot!"

           "WhatrighthaveyoutojudgewhatJustineisorisn’t?"sheaskedangrily.