It wouldn’t be you. 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. Manning, in an earnest voice, and waved his hand to the alley of mauve and purple. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. It is dull—deadly dull.
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