Once more he filled his glass and emptied it, for the potent stuff gave him a certain kind of courage.

Placing the bottle and glass on the table at his elbow, he resumed his seat.
The bottle was almost empty when, half an hour later, he heard the house door open and close.

It was Evelyn.

Presently she came into the room, still dressed as if for the street.
"Why, what's the matter, Marsh ?" she asked in surprise.
"Matter?
Nothing," he said shortly.
She glanced at the bottle and then at her husband.
"Aren't you well ?" she demanded.
"I'm all right." "I hope you aren't going to start that now!" and she nodded toward the bottle.
He made an impatient gesture.
"Marshall, I am going to speak to the judge; perhaps if he knew he could do or say something; I am not going to bear this burden alone any longer!" "Oh, what's the use of beginning that; can't you see I'm done up ?" he said petulantly.
"I don't wonder; the way you live is enough to do any one up, as you call it; it's intolerable!" she cried.
"What does it matter to you ?" "It makes a brute of you; it's killing you!" "The sooner the better," he said.
"For you, perhaps; but what about me ?" "Don't you ever think of any one but yourself ?" he sneered.
"Is that the way it impresses you ?" she asked coldly.
She slipped into the chair opposite him and began slowly to draw off her gloves.

Langham was silent for a minute or two; he gazed intently at her and by degrees the hard steely glitter faded from his heavy bloodshot eyes.