He had ceased to smoke, and was staring with fixed, inscrutable eyes into the darkness.
He did not flinch from the lightning; it was as if he did not see it.
"What would she do, I wonder, if the prodigal returned," he said quietly.

"Would she be glad--or sorry ?" "He never will," returned Hugh quickly.

"He never can--after fifteen years.

Think of it! Besides--she wouldn't have him if he did." "Women are proverbially faithful," remarked Conyers cynically.
"She will stick to me now," Hugh returned with confidence.

"The other fellow is probably dead.