The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. When she reflected that Mr. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. But you belong to me—and I want you. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. "Why do you laugh?" he asked.
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