“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. "What has happened?" Ruth asked. She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. It was a dismal and depressing sight to see a great city thus suddenly overthrown; and the carpenter was deeply moved by the spectacle. ‘Not if I heard him aright.
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