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. Are you going to write a novel?”
“Not I,” she answered gaily. You skulk in shadows,
following an émigré. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. I
know I am undeserving of your bounty; but if I were to tell you what hardships I
have undergone—to what frightful extremities I have been reduced—and to
what infamy I have submitted, to earn a scanty subsistence for this child's sake,
—if you could feel what it is to stand alone in the world as I do, bereft of all who
have ever loved me, and shunned by all who have ever known me, except the
worthless and the wretched,—if you knew (and Heaven grant you may be spared
the knowledge!) how much affliction sharpens love, and how much more dear to
me my child has become for every sacrifice I have made for him,—if you were
told all this, you would, I am sure, pity rather than reproach me, because I cannot
at once consent to a separation, which I feel would break my heart. He seemed happy with her, finding her
proper and seemly. 253
< 32 >
LUCY GOES TO DINNER
Mike and Lucy trudged over to the Vorsack’s house. Trenchard glanced at the document. "
"Hoddy," she repeated.
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