And instead of accepting the situation gratefully, he felt vaguely hurt! One evening in September a proa rasped in upon the beach. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. And a broken picture that was torn when I hit him with it.
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