People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. ‘Very inventive. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
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