If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. He carried a small bag. But for perfect satisfaction, he must take a peek into the bedroom. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. "Look quick, d—n you, or we shall never master him!" "Murder!" shrieked Mrs. He wore a black tail coat buttoned tightly over his chest, and a large diamond pin sparkled in a white satin tie which had seen better days. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep.
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