Mrs. Steele shoved her way in between the sisters to hand Louisa a green gown. Louisa stepped into it and struggled with the buttons, trying to fasten them, but the fabric tore in two. “It doesn’t fit,” Mrs. Steele said impatiently. “I hope all that cake you’ve been eating was worth sacrificing your entire married future and sending us all to our deaths.” “One must always consider the moral cost of a meal,” Mary said darkly.
