Mable didn't think she agreed with Francis, no matter how nice and wise the words sounded.  If you were hit once, then the second time you'd know what to expect, maybe even protect yourself better from it.  Surely that would make it hurt less, wouldn't it?

She had no way to know for sure, though.  No one had ever hit her in her life; her brother had made sure of that.

The hotel was as big and extravagant and beautiful as it had been the first time Mable saw it.  Just as she and Francis neared it, Edmund walked out of the front doors, looking distressed.  Mable wanted to call out to him, but stopped herself, and nudged Francis instead.