Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. " "Mend!" echoed Mrs. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. “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. " "How?" exclaimed the other. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness.
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