Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. . Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. You’re tired, of course. It’s just hard to keep things from her. But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. To write under a pseudonym!—to be forced to disown his children! He could not write under his own name, enjoy the fruits of fame should these tales prove successful. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity.
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