"Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen. 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. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. ’ ‘But, Hilary—’ ‘Don’t you begin, Lucilla, for I won’t stand for it.
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