“I expected you this morning,” he said. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. " In the living room Spurlock's glance was constantly drawn toward Ruth; but in fear that she might sense something wrong, he walked over to the piano and struck a few chords. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. The stranger turned his head at the sound.
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