He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. . 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. They are arbitrary and unjust and dogmatic and brutish and lustful. But what a monster was this Emile. ” Cathy insisted. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr.
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