The Tysons (Mr. and Mrs. Nevill Tyson)

half-darkness. Evidently contemplation had overtaken her in the act of undressing, for her hair was still untouched, her silk bodice lay beside her on the floor where she had let it fall,

d come many times in the twelve hours; but to-night it seemed not so much a momentary disfigurement as a sudden precocious maturity, as if nature had stamped her face with the image of what it would be ten, fifteen years hence. And as he looked at h

. "Why are you sitting up here and

ook he

out? You didn't suppose

gry. I'm not crying now. I don't know why I c

you go to

to her help, unpinning the black coils, smoothing them and plaiting them in a loose braid. He did it in a business-like way, as if he had been a hairdresser, he whose pulse used to beat faster if he so much as touched her

his things about noon, when Molly staggered into his dressing-room with her teeth chattering. C

dn't go away, Ne

back in a day or two."

sat down on the be

e matter,

" she sobbed. "I'm afraid, N

?" He looked up and was touc

I won't be silly and frightened-I

worked unconsciously, helping him to go-smoothing and folding his clothes, and layi

head against his shoulder; and she loo

e me?" she whis

orehead. It was damp with t

se. Then he went back and began turning the things in and out of his portmante

said in answer to

ear it. Becaus

not

nd he respected her defiance even more than he had respected her fear. "If

justice, and it was her hour. Besides

age on the dog-cart. He put his hand on his shoulder. "Look here," said he, "I can't go.

istreet stared va

an't trust myself by myself. For God's sake let

o hang about the house. Stanistreet was depressed and hardly spoke, while Tyson vainly tried to hide his nervousness under a fictitious jocularity. He looked eagerly for the night, by whic

" He leaned back against the chimney-piece, grinding his heels on the fender in hi

riously critical expression. Louis did not look very lik

don't know how we're going to get through the night." He cast a glance at the billiard-table. "Pity we c

you till any time in the morning, and I

a mighty smoke-it'll soothe our nerves any way

rritation was still sullenly fermenting; for not only was he going to spend a d

n't see her, can't go near her, can't do her the least bit of good in the world-I would be better out of the way, in fact-and yet I have to stic

a discussion of his plans. "I very much doubt whether I shall die a country gentleman after all. It isn't the life for me. That old man's respectability was ideal-transcendental-it's too much for me. I don't know why he left it to me. Sheer cussedness, I suppose. It would have been just like him if he ha

said Sta

it'll be chance that

much differ

up and plays with you, pleases you or teases you, and drops you when she's tired of you. Like-some ladies of our acquaintance, and you're none the worse for it, not you! Fate looks devilish well after you, loves you or hates you, and in ei

d caught the trick from him. At the present moment he would have given

room upstairs, and the two men held thei

ast nervous myself, you know. She's all right. Thompson says so. I'm awfully sorry for the poor l

could see nothing, think of nothing but the little fig

ot talking abo

cox came to the door and spoke to him for a minute. After that he became thoughtful. "I don't quite like the look of it," said he; "he'

a, philosophic calm gave way to philosophic doubt. "I don't know who has the management of these things, but what

ion on the subject. And I never interfere between a man and

y dozens-so have you-seen them die as if they enjoyed it, and seen them foaming at the mouth, kicking against death-and I can't say it particularly staggered my be

rnal cigar, and the slow monotonous movement of his lips. His friend's

ky, and man's nothing and woman less than nothing, this curious belief in the infinite seems the natural thing; it simply possesses you. You know the feeling? But here it gets crowde

n faith, but

beat his

ore faith in

e, than i

s feet. His mouth worked convulsively. "My God! I don't care who's responsible for this filthy

. It's damnable as you say, bu

ent-made her shine, for the moment, white and fair above the contemptible herd, her obscure multitudinous sisterhood. Other women! The phrase had an undertone of dull passionate self-reproach that wa

their grim lot that Mrs. Nevill Tyson had contrived to invest herself with this somber significance? Perhaps. It was the same woman that he had driven with, laughed with, flirted with a hundred times-the woman that in the natural course of things (Tyson apart) he would infallibly have made love to; and yet in one day and one night her prettinesses, her impertinences had fallen from her like a frivolous garment,

be some blundering. I'll speak to Baker. What are those damned doctors thinking

h grew dominant and clamorous. "It's all my fault-if she dies it'll be my fault! But how was I to know? How could I tell that anything like this would happen? I swear I'd die rather than let her go through this villainy a sec

ain quietly, and from time to time his lips moved, whether in imprecation or prayer it was hard

ead too. They were putt

us unintelligible shapes, the billiard-table in its white cloth became a monstrous bed, a bier, a gleaming mausoleum. And with the dawn Tyson on his sofa had dropped into a doze, and thence into a sleep. The night'

er touch on his shoulder. He started when he saw her standing over him, a strange figure in the dull light. She was clad in a long gray dressing-gown, h

of her plump hand, nor what he did with it. His

," stammered the optimist. "Wake him up