" "Why, my love," rejoined her husband, "appearances, you must allow, were a little against you. . It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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