It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. She regarded the young man coldly. He looked the boy over with interest. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. ” Michelle continued on as if uninterrupted. To be jeune demoiselle, it is not always convenient. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. He took about five minutes. “You should quit. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly.
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