A creeping numbness invaded her. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. She had a political cartoon from 1785 that showed a tall man in a cape, a caricature of a French politico that looked suspiciously like him. Then suddenly, in front of all those windows, he folded her in his arms and pressed her to him, and kissed her unresisting face. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. Many little things had contributed to that decision. “Great!” Cathy squealed. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement.
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