Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with. It’s—it’s a social difference. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands.
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