'You forget, perhaps, that St.Luke was a painter ?' 'And where do you get that from, Mr.Morrison, I'd like to ask ?' said his wife, slowly; 'it's not in the Bible--though I believe you think it is.

Well, good-night to you, Mr.Fenwick.

I'm sorry you haven't enjoyed yourself, and I'm not going to deny that Bella was very rude and trying.

Good-night.' And with a frigid touch of the hand, Mrs.Morrison departed.

She looked again at her husband as she closed the door--a sombre, shrinking look.
Morrison avoided it.