“‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. It throbs cruelly. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. An ancient smile lay on his lips. You certainly have not shown much desire for my society, have you?” “You have been wrapped up in your politics,” she murmured.
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