k.

'Give that book to me,' said Arthur, in no very courteous tone. I gave
it to him.

'Why did you let the dog out?' he asked; 'you knew I wanted him.'

'By what token?' I replied; 'by your throwing the book at him? but
perhaps it was intended for me?'

'No; but I see you've got a taste of it,' said he, looking at my hand,
that had also been struck, and was rather severely grazed.

I returned to my reading, and he endeavoured to occupy himself in the
same manner; but in a little while, after several portentous yawns, he
pronounced his book to be 'cursed trash,' and threw it on the table.
Then followed eight or ten minutes of silence, during the greater part of
which, I believe, he was staring at me. At last his patience was tired
out.

'What is that book, Helen?' he exclaimed.

I told him.

'Is it interesting?'

'Yes, very.'

I went on reading, or pretending to read, at least--I cannot say there
was much communication between my eyes and my brain; for, while the
former ran over the pages, the latter was earnestly wondering when Arthur
would speak next, and what he would say, and what I should answer. But
he did not speak again till I rose to make the tea, and then it was only
to say he should not take any. He continued lounging on the sofa, and
alternately closing his eyes and looking at his watch and at me, till
bed-time, when I rose, and took my candle and retired.

'Helen!' cried he, the moment I had left the room. I turned back, and
stood awaiting his commands.

'What do you want, Arthur?' I said at length.

'Nothing,' replied he. 'Go!'

I went, but hearing him mutter something as I was closing the door, I
turned again. It sounded very like 'confounded slut,' but I was quite
willing it should be something else.

'Were you speaking, Arthur?' I asked.

'No,' was the answer, and I shut the door and departed. I saw nothing
more of him till the following morning at breakfast, when he came down a
full hour after the usual time.

'You're very late,' was my morning's salutation.

'You needn't have waited for me,' was his; and he walked up to the window
again. It was just such weather as yesterday.

'Oh, this confounded rain!' he muttered. But, after studiously regarding
it for a minute or two, a bright idea, seemed to strike him, for he
suddenly exclaimed, 'But I know what I'll do!' and then returned and took
his seat at the table. The letter-bag was already there, waiting to be
opened.