“‘Do you think I will be any happier for being disillusioned?’ I asked. ‘Would it not have been better for me to have gone on blindly trusting? Oh, why did you tell me, why did I come, anyway?’ “‘If you wish to, we will return at once.’ “‘No, I must see it through to the bitter end. I could never be happy again now, knowing even as much as I do.’ “We drew up in front of a large house ablaze with light. We alighted, rang the bell, and were ushered into a sumptuously furnished parlor. Everything that was picturesque met the eye. Beautiful pictures and statues, elegant furniture and beautiful women, elaborately attired, and behind the palms in the corner was an orchestra. Everything combined to make the scene enchanting. I clung bewildered to Horace’s arm. “He led me to a small room off a large salon, where there were many tables. It was a scene of wild revelry, wine flowed freely and the air was heavy with the odor of many flowers. Horace pointed out a table near the center of the room. Seated at this table were two women and a man. The women were horribly made up and gowned in extreme decollete gowns, only fit for the most formal affair, and were laughing boisterously at something. “When the man turned his head I recognized my husband, and as I gazed he placed his hand on the exposed chest of one of his blasé companions, and patted it just as he had mine a thousand times when we first married. The spectacle was too revolting for words. I gave a slight scream. But Horace had anticipated some such occurrence and pressed my face against his broad shoulder. When I had partially recovered my normal condition we left. Back home—yes, now a home no longer! Back to the place where I had known so many happy days. Horace bade me good-night in the reception hall. “‘Lucile,’ said he, ‘you don’t know how sorry I am to have been the one to change the whole tenor of your life, but it was more honorable in me, was it not, than to maintain silence?’ “‘Yes,’ I said, calmly. “I went into the library and took a new magazine from the table, sat down and waited. Two o’clock, three o’clock, four o’clock and still no Chauncey. My eyes were glued to the clock; 4:15 and I heard a step. I half rose in my nervous expectancy and was appalled to see an arm uplifted over me as to strike. I threw up my right hand, which held the paper knife, to ward off the blow which seemed imminent. * * * * * “When I returned to consciousness I was lying on a couch by the window, my head was dizzy and the room was filled with imaginary voices. I wondered where I could be; then the occurrences of the previous night passed before me in rapid succession. I jumped up and the sight which met my eyes froze the blood in my veins. “There weltering in his own life blood, with the steel paper knife buried in his throat, lay Horace.