Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. “Uh, I think I might, Shari. ‘Yes, very rude,’ agreed the major. She may address me as “Grandfather” if she chooses, since I’m obliged to accept her in that capacity. “These are her rooms,” she said.
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