Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. He divorced her. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed.
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