Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. “There are a good many Whites in London. Mrs. 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. ” She replied. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other.
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