” He said. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. “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. " "I know; but …" "And sometimes you say out loud: 'That's great stuff!' I never make any sound. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock.
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