"O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. “And think of the ordinary wives and mothers, with their anxiety, their limitations, their swarms of children!” Mr.
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