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. “Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. ’ ‘Entertained, he says!’ ‘Intrigued, then,’ amended Gerald equably, although truth to tell he was enjoying the mystery enormously.
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