“Act three. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. "Do you call this frantic glee happiness?" "It's all the happiness I have known for years," returned the widow, becoming suddenly calm, "and it's short-lived enough, as you perceive. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. "There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. ‘Think I’m fool enough to do my business in a convent?’ he said scornfully. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. ” He looked at her with white, set face.
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