"Daisy, darling, I feared you were sick," he cried, nearly smothering
her with his caresses.

But Daisy writhed herself away from him, and, putting up her hands to
keep him off, cried out:

"Oh, Guy, Guy, you can't--you mustn't. You must never kiss me again or
love me any more, because I am--I am not--oh, Guy, I wish you had never
seen me; I am so sorry, too. I did like you. I--I--Guy--Guy--I ain't
your wife any more! Father has got a divorce!"

She whispered the last words, and then, affrighted at the expression of
Guy's face, fled half-way up the stairs, where she stood looking down
upon him, while, with a face as white as ashes, he, too, stood gazing at
her and trying to frame the words which should ask her what she meant.
He did not believe her literally; the idea was too preposterous, but he
felt that something horrible had come between him and Daisy--that in
some way she was as much lost to him as if he had found her coffined for
the grave, and the suddenness of the blow took from him for a moment his
powers of speech, and he still stood looking at her when the street door
opened and a new actor appeared upon the scene in the person of Mr.
McDonald, who had hastened home in obedience to the message from his
wife.

It was a principle of Mr. McDonald never to lose his presence of mind or
his temper, or the smooth, low tone of voice he had cultivated years ago
and practiced since with so good effect. And now, though he understood
the state of matters at once and knew that Guy had heard the worst, he
did not seem ruffled in the slightest degree, and his voice was just as