To O'Higgins—for all his sordid business he was not insensible to beauty—to O'Higgins she appeared to have entered the room with the light. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. He whispered in her ear. ” “Don’t say that,” Sydney begged. . I cannot answer that question. It was a letter. ‘I do not know if even I can do anything now. This is a joke of yours. Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. Scarcely any one noticed the full measure of her consternation.
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