. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror. 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. What was his problem, she thought to herself. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. . In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire.
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