Listen. She looked up, and recognized Mr. 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. Spurling had retired for the night. On your own. I’ve never had these crying fits before. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey.
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