“Why?” “I still love you. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. She wrapped a leg around him. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. ” “I came here to talk reasonably, Mr. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. He has told me sufficient of you—" "My dear," interposed Wood, "for goodness' sake—" "I will speak," screamed his wife, totally disregarding the interruption; "I will tell this worthless creature what I know about her,—and what I think of her. She got home every night in time to cook supper and it was good money.
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