It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. " "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. Death belongs to God, young man. Dinner was served at 5:30. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. "I didn't awake you, because you seemed tired.
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