In the evening, as the maid returned from grocery shopping, she casually mentioned having seen Mrs. Harris near a marketplace.
Emma, having developed a bond with Mrs. Harris during their time together, realized with a pang of guilt that she didn't even have Mrs. Harris's phone number.
Upon hearing the maid's mention of Mrs. Harris, Emma inquired, "Mrs. Harris? Where is she? Has she found a new job?"
The maid frowned slightly, "It looked like Mrs. Harris. She was picking up vegetable leaves off the ground at the market."
"What?" Emma sank onto the sofa, clutching its arm.
She knew Mrs. Harris's family was not well-off and how much she had valued her job at the villa.
The thought of Mrs. Harris reduced to collecting discarded vegetable leaves filled Emma with an overwhelming sense of remorse.
...
