WASHINGTON Richard had not been very happy in Washington.

He led too quiet and secluded a life, his companions said, advising him to go out more, and jocosely telling him that he was pining for his young wife and growing quite an old man.

When Melinda Jones came, Richard brightened a little, for there was always a sense of comfort and rest in Melinda's presence, and Richard spent much of his leisure in her society, accompanying her to concerts and occasionally to a levee, and taking pains to show her whatever he thought would interest her.

It was pleasant to have a lady with him sometimes, and he wished so much it had been practicable for Ethelyn to have come.

"Poor Ethie," he called her to himself, pitying her because, vain man that he was, he thought her so lonely without him.
This was at first, and before he had received in reply to his letter that dreadful blank, which sent such a chill to his heart, making him cold, and faint, and sick, as he began to realize what it was in a woman's power to do.