‘I won’t do it!’
Maeve sighed, ‘Kate, a stór, you must.’
a stórKate flounced as well as space would allow around the small room. Her silk dress swished as it brushed against the table and the bed. ‘And don’t think calling me ‘your treasure’ will persuade me, Maeve. I’m not going!’
Maeve waved the note at Kate. ‘But look, Mr Reilly says here that you will get light work…work that won’t damage your health.’
‘Sure, and do you think I care what Mr Reilly has to say.’ Her voice broke. ‘We should never have listened to him in the first place.’
‘He meant well.’
‘Oh yes, he meant well for the doctor and his wife - not so well for the poor Irish girl, who would be so carried away with all the riches that she would settle for anything!’
Maeve bit back her desire to say that was exactly what K
