E. ‘Don’t dare address me by such a title. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. “My darling!” he said, clasping her resolutely in his arms, “my dearest!” “Mr. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. “You’ve got to take the decent reasonable way. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure.
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