Yet he did not look out of temper, and, in fact, was not.

It was in reality almost an impossibility for Arthur Carroll to be out of temper with one of his own family.
When Carroll reached home his wife came running down the stairs in a long, white tea-gown, and flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Arthur!" she sobbed out.

"What do you think has happened?
What do you think ?" Carroll raised his wife's lovely face, all flushed and panting with grief and terror like a child's, and kissed it softly.

"Nothing, Amy; nothing, dear," he said.