“I hope you are going to Carey House. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. “What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. It has been very humiliating.
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