Vandover caught his breath and started violently, feeling again for an instant the cold grip of the hysterical terror that had so nearly overcome him on the morning after Ida's death.

It slowly relaxed, however, and by the time he had reached the house on California Street he was almost himself again.
It was about church time when Vandover arrived at home once more.

There was a Sunday quiet in the air.

The bells were ringing, and here and there family groups on their way to church, the children walking in front, very sedate in their best clothes, carrying the prayer-books carefully, by special privilege.
The butler was working in the garden, as he sometimes did of a Sunday morning, pottering about a certain bed of sweet-peas, and it was the housekeeper who answered his ring.

She recognized him with a prolonged exclamation, raising her hands to heaven.
"O-oh, and is it you, Mr.Vandover, sir?
Ah, how we've been upset about you and all, and it's glad to see you back again your father will be! Oh, such times as we had when we heard about the wreck and knowing you were on it! Yes, sir, your father's _pretty_ well, though he was main poorly yesterday morning.