, he did not have any attachment for him.

"Come here, sir!" said Linmere, authoritatively.

Still the animal did not stir. Linmere was nervous enough to be excited
to anger by the variest trifle, and the dog's disobedience aroused his
rage.

"Curse the brute!" he cried; and putting his foot against him, he sent
him spinning across the room. Leo did not growl, or cry out, but his
eyes gleamed like coals, and he showed his white teeth with savage but
impotent hatred. It was easy to see that if he had been a bulldog instead
of a greyhound, he would have torn Mr. Paul Linmere limb from limb.

Linmere went back to his chair, and sat down with a sullen face; but he
could not rest there. He rose, and going into an inner room, brought out
an ebony box, which he opened, and from which he took a miniature in a
golden case. He hesitated a moment before touching the spring, and when
he did so the unclosing revealed the face of a young girl--a fair young
girl in her early youth--not more than eighteen summers could have
scattered their roses over her, when that beautiful impression was taken.
A ripe southern face, with masses of jet-black hair, and dark brilliant
eyes. There was a dewy crimson on her lips, and her cheeks were red as
damask roses. A bright, happy face, upon which no blight had fallen.

"She was beautiful--beautiful as an houri!" said Mr. Paul Linmere,
speaking slowly, half unconsciously, it seemed, his thoughts aloud. "And
when I first knew her she was sweet and innocent. I made her sin. I led
her into the temptation she was too weak to resist. Women are soft and
silly when they are in love, and because of that, men have to bear all
the blame. She was willing to trust me--she ought to have been more
cautious. Who blames me, if I tired of her? A man does not always want
a moping complaining woman hanging about him; and she had a deuced
unpleasant way of forcing herself upon me when it was particularly
disagreeable to have her do so. Well--but there is no use in
retrospection. She was drowned--she and her unborn child, and
the dead can never come back--no, never!"

He sprang up and rang the bell sharply. Directly his valet, Pietro, a
sleepy-looking and swarthy Italian, appeared.

"Bring me a glass of brandy, Pietro; and look you, sir, you may sleep
to-night on the lounge in my room. I am not feeling quite well, and may
have need of you before morning."

The man looked surprised, but made no comment. He brought