to leave you a mere speck back through the vista of years. I wonder is there any of the Christ in your religion. Most men's religion only teaches them how not to forgive. "Evil communications corrupt good manners; be careful as you read, O

man of God."

The men had all gone shooting, including B. Mrs. B. and I had gone for one of our walks through the soldierly pines they, so loyal, that even after death their skeletons stand upright and at attention before their Lord. At last, tired but happy, we sat down on a log by the side of a dried river-bed filled with sand. I begged her to leave her husband to come with me. She looked at me for a moment rather quizzically, and said:

"Is not that proposition somewhat immodern? People don't do that sort of thing

nowadays. In olden times it was possible to hide, but now no one can be lost to the world until under ten feet of earth, or at the bottom of the fathomless sea. Under those circumstances, to be happy one must be lost among strangers; our friends would never permit us to forget the immorality of our relations. The little delusion that it would have been sinful to have done otherwise, a delusion that all people so situated bind to their souls 'with hooks of steel,' is seldom shared by their friends." Then she turned and, looking me squarely in the eyes, asked:

"Why do you never speak of your wife? Why do you never mention her name? answer me that first. A man who can so completely forget one woman, can more easily forget two. Forgetfulness improves with practice, like anything else."

I told her that north, south, east, or west, whichever way I looked, I saw nothing but her, that an opaque curtain had fallen between me and my past. This is all I said, for you cannot bemore one person by belittling another.

For a moment she seemed lost in thought, then she asked:

"Where and how can we go?"

I answered: "We can take the train from here to Augusta, catching the 'Palm Limited,' and-"

"Ah, but those trains don't connect," said a voice behind us. "You'll have to go to Blackville to meet the Florida Flyer.'" I knew the voice, and so did she. Slowly our heads turned automatically in his direction; there sat B., with his inevitable smile, his gun resting between his legs.

He added: "You know, Dayton, there is a time-table at the club."

As for my sensations, you can guess at them better than I can describe them. He rose first, and moved out into the throat of the river, which was as parched as mine. I gave one glance at her; she was like a flower that had grown old in a night. We two walked up to him until he turned and faced us, as children might to learn their fate. He looked at us a moment, and then said, in a voice the music of which I noticed for the first time:

"My dear sir, I never blame a man for a condition of this sort; man at his best is a predatory beast-I blame the woman.' Then turning to her, he added: "My dear, I think a little old-fashioned corporal punishment will do you good. You-"

As the last word came to his mouth, it

was as if you had pricked a balloon of blood. His face, which had been white, became scarlet, and, raising his clenched fist, repeating, "You" But that word was never formulated. I was too quick; an old-fashioned "lock" that I remember brought him to the ground, with me on top. I am honest in saying that for a moment my heart refused its functions; with my fist raised in the air, I tried to strike, but my fist would not fall. I was like a graven image; life had been arrested. Then my heart, wishing to make up for lost time, raced like a propeller out of water, and my hand descended on his throat as unyielding as the grip of death. I choked and choked until his eyes lay like partially ripened grapes upon his cheeks. Lord bless your heart, it was funny to see him. wiggle; he had the strength of one man,