We close the chapter. Manning displayed distress. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. She went next day to the schools, and her world seemed all made of happiness just worked up roughly into shapes and occasions and duties. If he escapes at all, it must be before our faces. By the side of her plate was a small key. I have been dreaming of your body and you night after night.
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