He gave a slight titter on seeing me change colour.

I folded up the letter, rose, and returned it to him, with no remark, but-- 'Thank you, I will take a lesson by it!' My little Arthur was standing between his knees, delightedly playing with the bright, ruby ring on his finger.

Urged by a sudden, imperative impulse to deliver my son from that contaminating influence, I caught him up in my arms and carried him with me out of the room.

Not liking this abrupt removal, the child began to pout and cry.

This was a new stab to my already tortured heart.