There is the key. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his. She must kill this man, or kill herself. For that matter, my future be damned. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. It is most uncomfortable for every one concerned. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. "Is that all? Then learn from me that your hopes are visionary as their foundation. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. “You’re. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room.
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