and Mrs. "Do you call this frantic glee happiness?" "It's all the happiness I have known for years," returned the widow, becoming suddenly calm, "and it's short-lived enough, as you perceive. It was clear it must be to-morrow. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. The mode of destruction makes no difference. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. Again he rushed. “Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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