“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Austin could scarcely credit his senses when he beheld him. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. I refused to sign a petition in his behalf to the Recorder; not from any ill-will to him, but because it was prepared by a person whom I particularly dislike— Captain Darrell. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear.
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