And suddenly he thought he understood; and a chill ran through him.

'My G--d!' he said, startled; 'he is not dead ?' She closed the door behind her, and stood, her hand on the latch.

'No, he is not dead,' she said stiffly, voice and look alike repellent.

'But he has not you to thank for that.' 'Eh ?' 'How can you come here with that face,' she continued with sudden passion--and he began to find her eyes intolerable--'and ask for him?
You who--fie, sir! Go home! Go home and thank God that you have not his blood upon your hands--you--who might to-day be Cain!' He gasped.

'Good Lord!' he said unaffectedly.