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’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. It rather astonished him. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. She swallowed hard. ” “You know, Mr. " "Ay, and there's my liver.
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