Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. ” Michelle said. “See you. ’ ‘But, Hilary—’ ‘Don’t you begin, Lucilla, for I won’t stand for it. CHAPTER XXVII.
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