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Captain Dillington and my husband seemed unable to utter a word. My laughter did not last long. Quick as a flash of lightning came the thought to me that I was in a very ridiculous situation. After having shown my hand in a most hopeless manner, I had discovered my husband tête-á-têtetête-à-tête [sic] with—the abandoned woman I had pictured, the wanton destroyer of my domestic happiness I had imagined? No, with his bosom friend—the friend who long before I had come upon the scene had played the role of Damon to Arthur's Pythias.

Of course, as I stood before them, my hysterical laughter silenced, my breast heaving with emotion, and the fever spot burning on each cheek, they knew why I was there, what I suspected. But was it merely my sudden arrival that was responsible for the death-like pallor of my husband's face? Why did Captain Dillington