h kisses.
Yes, but never, never without a little scar. But woe to the woman's love
when she becomes insensible to these little stabs!

Henderson hurried home, then, more eagerly than usual, with reparation
in his heart, but still with no conception of the seriousness of the
breach. Margaret heard the key in the door, heard his hasty step in the
hall, heard him call, as he always did on entering, "Margaret! where
is Margaret?" and she, sitting there in the deep window looking on the
square, longed to run to him, as usual also, and be lifted up in his
strong arms; but she could not stir. Only when he found her did she
rise up with a wistful look and a faint smile. "Have you had a good day,
child?" And he kissed her. But her kiss was on her lips only, for her
heart was heavy.

"Dinner will be served as soon as you dress," she said. What a greeting
was this! Who says that a woman cannot be as cruel as a man? The dinner
was not very cheerful, though Margaret did her best not to appear
constrained, and Henderson rattled on about the events of the day. It
had been a deuce of a day, but it was coming right; he felt sure that
the upper court would dissolve the injunction; the best counsel said
so; and the criminal proceedings--"Had there been criminal proceedings?"
asked Margaret, with a stricture at her heart--had broken down
completely, hadn't a leg to stand on, never had, were only begun to
bluff the company. It was a purely malicious prosecution. And Henderson
did not think it necessary to tell Margaret that only Uncle Jerry's
dexterity had spared both of them the experience of a night in the
Ludlow Street jail.

"Come," said Henderson--"come into the library. I have something to tell
you." He put his arm round her as they walked, and seating himself in
his chair by his desk in front of the fire, he tried to draw Margaret to
sit on his knee.

"No; I'll sit here, so that I can see you," she said, composed and
unyielding.

He took out his pocket-book, selected a slip of paper, and laid it on
the table before him. "There, that is a check for seven hundred dollars.
I looked in the books. That is the interest for a year on the Fletcher
bonds. Might as well make it an even year; it will be that soon."

"Do you mean to say--" asked Margaret, leaning forward.

"Yes; to brighten up the Christmas up there a little."

"--that you are going to send that to Mrs. Fletcher?" Margaret had
risen.

"Oh, no; that wouldn't do. I can