It was true. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. “I cannot part with 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. It depresses one, you know. Tell me how are you amusing yourself?” Anna laughed. Sheppard.
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