“I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. "The door's open, and the room empty. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter.
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