the floor, exclaimed harshly:

"What the d--l does this mean?"

"My son! I am so glad you are at home again. I was getting quite
uneasy at your long absence. This is one of the victims of that
terrible railroad disaster; the neighborhood is full of the
sufferers. Come to my room. When did you arrive?"

She linked her arm in his, picked up the game-bag, and led him to
the adjoining room, the door of which she closed and locked.

A painful thrill shot along Edna's nerves, and an indescribable
sensation of dread, a presentiment of coming ill, overshadowed her
heart. This was the son of her friend, and the first glimpse of him
filled her with instantaneous repugnance; there was an innate and
powerful repulsion which she could not analyze. He was a tall,
athletic man, not exactly young, yet certainly not elderly; one of
anomalous appearance, prematurely old, and, though not one white
thread silvered his thick, waving, brown hair, the heavy and
habitual scowl on his high, full brow had plowed deep furrows such
as age claims for its monogram. His features were bold but very
regular; the piercing, steel-gray eyes were unusually large, and
beautifully shaded with long heavy, black lashes, but repelled by
their cynical glare; and the finely formed mouth, which might have
imparted a wonderful charm to the countenance, wore a chronic,
savage sneer, as if it only opened to utter jeers and curses.
Evidently the face had once been singularly handsome, in the dawn of
his earthly career, when his mother's good-night kiss rested like a
blessing on his smooth, boyish forehead, and the prayer learned in