There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. “I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your private life. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. I shall give you my life, every moment and thought of my life. And even if that,’ she added bitterly, ‘he must be also a person of a disposition extremely mad, that he can go against the family. It is no problem. It throbs cruelly.
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