"You look awful down-in-the-mouth.

Only to think of our having enough to be comfortable for life.

I should think you'd be real thankful and pleased." "I don't know whether I'm thankful and pleased or not," rejoined Henry, morosely.
"Why, Henry Whitman!" "If it had only come earlier, when we had time and strength to enjoy it," said Henry, with sudden relish.

He felt that he had discovered a new and legitimate ground of injury which might console him for the loss of the old.
"We may live a good many years to enjoy it now," said Sylvia.
"I sha'n't; maybe you will," returned Henry, with malignant joy.
Sylvia regarded him with swift anxiety.

"Why, Henry, don't you feel well ?" she gasped.
"No, I don't, and I haven't for some time." "Oh, Henry, and you never told me! What is the matter?
Hadn't you better see the doctor ?" "Doctor!" retorted Henry, scornfully.
"Maybe he could give you something to help you.