Miriam had nailed on the wall a reproduction of Veronese's "St.
Catherine".

She loved the woman who sat in the window, dreaming.

Her own windows were too small to sit in.

But the front one was dripped over with honeysuckle and virginia creeper, and looked upon the tree-tops of the oak-wood across the yard, while the little back window, no bigger than a handkerchief, was a loophole to the east, to the dawn beating up against the beloved round hills.
The two sisters did not talk much to each other.

Agatha, who was fair and small and determined, had rebelled against the home atmosphere, against the doctrine of "the other cheek".