Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. He has told me sufficient of you—" "My dear," interposed Wood, "for goodness' sake—" "I will speak," screamed his wife, totally disregarding the interruption; "I will tell this worthless creature what I know about her,—and what I think of her. ” Dessert was served. Dolby smiled. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor. “It’s my fault. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. Suspicion was in his face. Diane spoke first. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo.
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