Prose Fancies

rhaps, a little idle to worry too long over the question. Yet in the mere question, putting any answer outside possibility, there is a wonderful suggestiveness, if it has happened to come to you

but a tiny point, a needle's end of difference, on which they disagreed, and it was on that needle's end that the devils danced. All the devils of hell, you would have said. At any rate, you would have no longer wondered why the old philos

nt. He was the tenderest of husbands in every other point. There is nothing that love can dream that he was not capable of doing for his wife's sake. But, on the other hand, it was equally true that there can be no other wife in the world more devoted than Dora; with her also there was nothing too hard for love's sake. Could he not waive so ridiculous a blemish? It was little enough for love to achieve,

before, and their nerves were against them. The merest accident would bring it on. Dora would ask William to post a letter for her in town. Being out of sorts, and susceptible to the silliest irritation, he wou

she wo

ld answer, already

f your critical

l. What's

you look at the envelope in that w

, dear, why

sarcastic, dear.

least intentio

.... Give me

rig

very woman's writi

don't feel very well this morn

tter to me? Be as angry as you li

on sequitur, is

me. With your nas

into a temper about nothing? See, I know you are a litt

wish to b

or

d don his coat in silence, before mak

haps you will love me agai

't be here when

on't begin that sil

y again-I mayn't be here when

uppose I were to say t

be quite i

Dor

arrels. I can bear this life no longer.'

ast night you said

I didn't

alk like that, or I shal

if you don't mind. Don't y

t?-me?-O Dora, it is not you that i

she was aware of it, the door would have banged. By the time William had reached the gate he would be half-way through with a deed of

d she had listened for all day, Dora would immediately begin to petrify again, and when he would approach her with open arms, asking her to forgive and forget the morning,