"I am sorry, and--and I sympathize with you, but I hardly know how to explain." She was looking at me through the darkness; I was able to distinguish the white outline of her uplifted face.
"I am sorry--yes," very slowly, "but perhaps not as you suppose.

It is hard to think of him as dead--killed so suddenly, without opportunity to think, or make any preparation.

He--he was my husband under the law.

That was all; he was no more.

I do not believe I ever loved him--my marriage was but the adventure of a romantic girl; but if I once did, his subsequent abuse of me, his life of dissipation, obliterated long since every recollection of that love.