Oh, Dear Lord, forgive us! The Gordon woman saw Miss Pigot and Babu Banerjee in the drawing room with their arms around each other. Another time she saw Babu Banerjee going down the outside stairs while putting on his coat.
I feel as if someone struck the air out of me. This cannot be true. It mustn’t be! What am I to do? I sweep a pile of documents off my desk. There’s another letter. I inhale deeply, unfold it, and skim quickly through it.
Nothing about indiscretions, thank God. Just comments about food and clothing given to the orphans. A more detailed account of a child caned as punishment.
I hear tapping at the door.
“Go away,” I shout. “I’m not at home to anyone.”
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