ng-his wife standing there flushed, wounded,
indignant. "I might have turned back, and taken her in my arms, and told
her it was all right," he thought. He wished he had done so. But what
nonsense it was to think that she could be seriously troubled! Besides,
he couldn't have women interfering with him every moment.

How inconsiderate men are! They drop a word or a phrase--they do not know
how cruel it is--or give a look--they do not know how cold it is--and are
gone without a second thought about it; but it sinks into the woman's
heart and rankles there. For the instant it is like a mortal blow, it
hurts so, and in the brooding spirit it is exaggerated into a hopeless
disaster. The wound will heal with a kind word, with 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 r