’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook.
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