They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. Well, I don’t think that’s fair. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links.
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