sharply.

"Dat Samp_son_, he one leet dev'," proffered Marie Louise, with
laudable design of shifting blame upon the easy shoulders of Sampson,
in event of the domestic jar which she anticipated. "No use try do
nuttin' 'id Sampson, M'sieur."

"I had to know something, one way or the other," Fanny said in a tone
which carried apology, rather by courtesy than by what she considered
due.

Hosmer walked to the window where he looked out upon the dreary,
desolate scene, little calculated to cheer him. The river was just
below; and from this window he could gaze down upon the rushing
current as it swept around the bend further up and came striking
against this projection with a force all its own. The rain was falling
still; steadily, blindingly, with wild clatter against the shingled
roof so close above their heads. It coursed in little swift rivulets
down the furrows of the almost perpendicular banks. It mingled in a
demon dance with the dull, red water. There was something inviting to
Hosmer in the scene. He wanted to be outside there making a part of
it. He wanted to feel that rain and wind beating upon him. Within, it
was stifling, maddening; with his wife's presence there, charging the
room with an atmosphere of hate that was possessing him and beginning
to course through his veins as it had never done before.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked bluntly, turning half around.

"You must be crazy," she replied, with a slow, upward glance out the
window, then down at her feet that were still poised on the low stool
that Marie Louise had placed for her.

"You'd better come." He could not have said what moved him, unless it
were recklessness and defiance.

"I guess you're dreaming, or something, David. You go on home if you
want. Nobody asked you to come after me any way. I'm able to take care
of myself, I guess. Ain't you going to take the umbrella?" she added,
seeing him start for the door empty handed.

"Oh, it doesn't matter about the rain," he answered without a look
back as he went out and slammed the door after him.

"M'sieur look lak he not please," said Marie Louise, with plain regret
at the turn of affairs. "You see he no lak you go out in dat kine
wedder, me know dat."

"Oh, bother," was Fanny's careless reply. "This suits me well enough;
I don't care how long it lasts."

She was in Marie Louise's big rocker, balancing comfortably back and
forth with a swing that had become automatic. She felt "good,