“When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. " He paused, and not without malice. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. She did not have the power of men. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. He kissed her cheek. Father-worshipping sons are abnormal— and they’re no good. In any event, I explained that no one lived here and that we’d been called in because of suspected intruders.
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