But this only incensed the assailing party the more. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to
the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though
such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of
course. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. 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. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. There was a young lad ahead of her.
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