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Updated: June 26, 2025
Kensett had much of hers from Benjie's letters; they were regular as the dew and cheery as the sun, a balsam for the wounds in the poor heart.
"I raised my head indignantly. 'Not at all, Miss Wyeth, only I'll bid you good-evening, for this is the nineteenth century, and I'm a Christian. "'So am I, she said. 'So is my father. "'The devil he is, I thought. "Her next words made me jump. "'Please do not be profane, Mr. Kensett. "How did she know I was profane? I had not spoken a word!
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