She took her satchel and parasol and , in her clear , musical tones , thanked him for bringing her home . Emily had a very distinctive voice . It was very sweet always and very cold generally ; sometimes it softened to tenderness with those she loved , but in it there was always an undertone of inflexibility and reserve . Nobody had ever heard Emily Fair 's voice tremble . `` You are more than welcome , Mrs. Fair , '' said Hiram Jameson , with a glance of bold admiration . Emily met it with an unflinching indifference . She disliked Hiram Jameson . She had been furious under all her external composure because he had been at the station when she left the train . Jameson perceived her scorn , but chose to disregard it . `` Proud as Lucifer , '' he thought as he drove away . `` Well , she 's none the worse of that . I do n't like your weak women -- they 're always sly . If Stephen Fair do n't get better she 'll be free and then -- '' He did not round out the thought , but he gloated over the memory of Emily , standing by the gate in the harsh , crude light of the autumn sunset , with her tawny , brown hair curling about her pale , oval face and the scornful glint in her large , dark-grey eyes . Emily stood at the gate for some time after Jameson 's waggon had disappeared . When the brief burst of sunset splendour had faded out she turned and went into the garden where late asters and chrysanthemums still bloomed . She gathered some of the more perfect ones here and there . She loved flowers , but to-night the asters seemed to hurt her , for she presently dropped those she had gathered and deliberately set her foot on them . A sudden gust of wind came over the brown , sodden fields and the ragged maples around the garden writhed and wailed . The air was raw and chill . The rain that had threatened all day was very near .
XXXXX shivered and went into the house .
Emily Fair Jameson day inflexibility left satchel splendour to-night waggon