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. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. The lad looked alarmed. ‘She knows what she’s up against. Then Mr. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast.
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