In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed.
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