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A pretty maidservant, heated and flushed with orders and compliments, crossed his path with a tray full of glasses. "There's a lady come by the Telegraph?" "Yes, sir, upstairs, No. 2, Mr. Morton." Mr. Morton! He shrank at the sound of his own name. "My wife's right," he muttered. "After all, this is more unpleasant than I thought for." The slight stairs shook under his hasty tread.

He'll get a wigging." As may be supposed, I paid little heed to them. I sprang out and ran up the steps to the door. I saw my wife's face at the window: she herself ran to the door and opened it for me. "Good God," I whispered, "do all these people know he's here, and take him for the king?" "Yes," she said. "We couldn't help it. He showed himself at the door."

But in the course of time his wife's eyes were opened. She learnt to examine her husband more closely, and saw through him more clearly every day. How blind she had been! Now that her perceptions were sharpened her fondness suddenly disappeared, and nothing remained but a dim feeling of duty towards him.

"Come home with me now, if you have nothing better to do, and allow me to present my wife to you." And they walked on side by side. "You have dined? I am afraid " "My dear fellow, I have this moment left the club." Dr. Chetwynd put his latch-key into the lock and ushered his friend upstairs to his wife's pretty drawing-room.

Each day that passed made his hurried uprising and scrambled breakfast more and more irksome; and on Monday morning, with hands in trouser-pockets and legs stretched out, he leaned back in his chair and received his wife's alarming intimations as to the flight of time with a superior and sphinx-like smile. "It's too fine to go to work to-day," he said, lazily.

If, when the dinner-hour brought them together, he was silent and dull in his wife's presence, he attributed it to anxiety on the subject of his brother then absent on a critical business errand in London. If he sometimes left the house the first thing in the morning, and only returned at night, it was because the management of the model farm had become one of his duties, in Randal's absence. Mrs.

Cunningham is not implicated. But the bag is still a clue, for how did it get into Mr. Crawford's office?" "We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is," I suggested. "He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag there, he never would have let her send this letter." "Perhaps he didn't know she wrote it." "Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs.

Elmore had his history to occupy him, and doubtless he could not understand how heavy the time hung upon his wife's hands. They went often to the theatre, and every evening they went to the Piazza, and ate an ice at Florian's. This was certainly amusement; and routine was so pleasant to his scholarly temperament that he enjoyed merely that.

He lived here several years with her, continued she, 'and had several children by her, of which the young gentleman that was with him now was one; but after some time, the old gentlewoman, his mother, talking to her of something relating to herself when she was in England, and of her circumstances in England, which were bad enough, the daughter-in-law began to be very much surprised and uneasy; and, in short, examining further into things, it appeared past all contradiction that the old gentlewoman was her own mother, and that consequently that son was his wife's own brother, which struck the whole family with horror, and put them into such confusion that it had almost ruined them all.

Less because of my wife's assurances than because of the atrocious sufferings which I felt in jealousy, I no longer allowed myself to be jealous. "In spite of that, I was not at ease with the musician or with her during dinner-time and the time that elapsed before the beginning of the music. Involuntarily I followed each of their gestures and looks.