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” “Alcide’s songs are not atrocious,” Ennison remarked. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. " "Ah! Now I can get a perspective. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. To divide the agony into two spheres so that one would mitigate the other. Primarily it was her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom.
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