He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. He turned, expecting to see his wife. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. . Howard Spurlock.
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