I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. The door to the library burst open. At table he carved in a gloomy but resolute manner. He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over—we can scarcely, in this case, say—their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations.
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