He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. From other obscure hints dropped by the speakers, Mrs. “Not to-night,” she said. ” “Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?” she asked quietly. A slow anger burned in the man.
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