A silence ensued. After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. She remained standing stiffly, unable even to move. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. So she built a shrine.
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