"John, read this."
John glanced at the sheet, and his face darkened. The look he shot his wife was indescribable. She watched him, twisting and knotting and untwisting her gloves.
"When did this thing come?" asked John, a slight tremor in his tone.
"This morning," Mrs. Jack answered, her voice choking.
"Why did you not bring it to me?" he asked. "Why did you take it to Dick? You and he should not come to me; on the contrary, you and I should have gone to him. But never mind now. I have carried in my pocket a letter similar to this for several weeks," simply.
"Catch her, John!" cried Warrington.
"No, no! I am not fainting. I am just dizzy."
The poor woman groped her way to the lounge and lay down. Her shoulders were shaking with noiseless sobs.
John crossed the room and put his hand on her head. The touch was tender.
"Well, Dick?"