It comforts him when he is most forlorn. “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. 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. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class.
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