"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. ” “He mentioned the matter to me also,” Miss Pellissier remarked stiffly. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief. He cupped her small hands in the bowl of his large ones and reassured her in the kindest manner, saying, “You will have the finest life that Florence has to offer. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. " "Instantly, Sir," replied Austin; "instantly.
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