I couldn’t help the thought. He turned in at the club. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. “How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. ” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. "When I heard of your escape, I felt sure I should see you.
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