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She had behaved in every way perfectly. Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. ’ ‘But what of justice?’ asked Lucilla, evidently dazed. . For she needed him. "I read those stories. We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. Drink for him had a queer phase. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. "Before to- morrow night that boy shall join his father.
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