Something in the sound of Carry's voice, or perhaps some line of suffering in his face must have touched him.
"Well, of course, I ain't no hog," he exclaimed in a softer tone, which was meant as an apology, "and if you're sick that ends it, but I've got all them men to pay and--" "Yes, I understand and I won't forget.

Thank you, Mr.McGowan, and good-night.

Come along, Jack,--Corinne's worrying, and will be till I get home." The two kept silent as they walked up the hill Garry, because he was too tired to discuss the cowardly attack; Jack, because what he had to say must be said when they were alone,--when he could get hold of Garry's hand and make him open his heart.
As they approached the small house and mounted the steps leading to the front porch, Corinne's face could be seen pressed against a pane in one of the dining-room windows.

Garry touched Jack's arm and pointed ahead: "Poor Cory!" he exclaimed with a deep sigh, "that's the way she is every night.

Coming home is sometimes the worst part of it all, Jack." The door flew open and Corinne sprang out: "Are you tired, dear ?" she asked, peering into his face and kissing him.