’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. 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. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. Made me fetch up Trodger and a couple more men, and together we searched his luggage and got hold of every single paper the man possessed. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. Gerald would not marry her even with a dowry.
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