that the woollen sleeves which she needed for the coming winter were

not yet finished. This domestic fact, insignificant as it seems, bore

sad results. For want of those sleeves, a chill seized her in the

midst of a sweat caused by a terrible explosion of anger on the part

"I have been thinking, my poor child, that if you had confided your

secret to me we should have had time to write to Monsieur des Grassins

in Paris. He might have sent us gold pieces like yours; though Grandet

"Where could we have got the money?"