Mrs. Doyle brought the scissors without a second thought. "What are we cutting, ma'am? Let me do it, these are sharp, you might nick yourself."Nora held out her hand, firm. "I've got it."Still uneasy, Mrs. Doyle handed them over but didn't move from her side.She's pregnant now. If anything happened to her on my watch, I'd never forgive myself.Nora took the shears in one hand, the dress in the other, and in one clean motion tore a long slit straight down the fabric.Mrs. Doyle gasped. "Ma'am! What are you doing? That's a beautiful dress, why would you cut it up?"Genuine distress mixed with confusion crossed her face.Nora set the scissors down on the ruined silk and turned toward her. "This fabric was flimsy. It tore on its own.""I.. I'm not sure I follow, ma'am," Mrs. Doyle stammered.Nora rose, changed into a loose cotton dress, and walked over, stopping directly in front of her."Mrs. Doyle. This dress was flimsy. It tore on its own. If Mr. Pierce asks, that's exactly what hap
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