She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. “I am giving my understudy a chance. ’” “Is ‘Alcide’ still in Paris?” Ennison asked. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her.
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