Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. His appetite was perfectly Gargantuan. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. “A serious question.
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