Mable held firm and did not turn to look at Francis, even as he stepped into the water.  She didn't answer his question, just listened to him speak.  She didn't at all blame the people who threw stones at him.  She would too right now, if she had any.

"You don't know anything," she hissed.  "We've already lived that life.  Didn't Edmund tell you that?  Where we came from, what we've gone through?  He's such a liar.  My brother was not a liar, and his name was not Edmund Reynolds."

He's sure if he heard her now, Edmund would throw a fit.  Here she was, spilling all their secrets to his friend.  Puh!  She didn't care.  She never liked to lie in the first place.