It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. ” And she pressed her lips together in white resolution and nodded, and she was manifestly full of that same passion for conflict and selfsacrifice that has given the world martyrs since the beginning of things.
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