pay the rent. She pined for the good food she had been used to. Her health
suffered through anxiety and hard work. She was too proud to complain, but
the sight of her dumb unacceptance of what had come to her through him
undoubtedly added the last straw to her husband's mental strain.

* * * * *

"It is hard for me to realize it as I once did," said Paul, as the story
paused. "You make tragedy a dream. But there is a deep vein of tragedy in
our blood. And my theory is that it always crops out in families where
it's the keynote, as it were."

"Never mind, you old care-taker! We Middletons carry sail enough to need a
ton or two of lead in our keel."

"But, you understand?"--

"I understand the distinction between what I call your good blood, and the
sort of blood I thought you had. It explains a certain funny way you have
with arms--weapons. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," said Paul coldly. "I hate a weapon. I am always ashamed of
myself when I get one in my hand."

"You act that way, dear!"

"God made tools and the Devil made weapons."

"You are civil to my father's profession."