"Can't you do anything?" asked Miss Spraggs, during a pause in her hysterical weeping.
"Do what?"
"Something: anything. You're a man."
"I haven't grasped it yet. I must think it out," he said, as he began to walk up and down the room so far as the crowded furniture would permit.
"We must try and think it's God's will," said his wife, making an effort to get her thoughts under control.
"What!" cried Devitt, stopping short in his walk to look at his wife with absent eyes.
"God has singled us out for this bitter punishment," snuffled Mrs Devitt, as her eyes glanced at the heavily gilded chandelier.
With a gesture of impatience, Devitt resumed his walk, while Miss Spraggs quickly went to windows and door, which she threw open to their utmost capacity for admitting air.
"One thing must be done," declared Devitt.
"Yes?" asked his wife eagerly.