"But you had the right to her." "Yes.

And I went down to Exeter to her father's house, to fetch her away." It was curious that Stella Croyle, who was speaking of her own distressful life, told her story with a quiet simplicity of tone, as if she had bent her neck in submission to the hammer strokes of her destiny; whereas Joan, who was but listening to griefs of another, was stirred to a compassion which kindled her face and made her voice shake.
"Oh, they hadn't sent her away! She was waiting for you," she cried eagerly.
"She was waiting for me.

Yes! But it was no longer my baby who was waiting.

They had worked on her, Robert, my husband--and his sisters.
They had told her--oh, more than they need! That I was bad." "Oh!" breathed Joan.
"Yes, they were a little cruel.

They had changed baby altogether.