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"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. And there arose too, a background of shouts. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. " "Except me, dear," insinuated Edgeworth Bess. Wood, as, having seen the earth thrown over the remains of the unfortunate Mrs. The contact is disturbing; and we prefer going around the fact to facing it.
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