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 N Sunday afternoons it was the custom for Dave Wilkins and Angus Burke to take long walks together; it was their day; for them exclusively, and both looked forward to it through the days of the week. On this Sabbath, as dusk settled over the town they were proceeding in contented silence through the shadier, more secluded streets. Dave Wilkins was proud, he was happy, for his hour of fulfillment had come…. It was past the evening luncheon hour when they passed Craig Browning’s house. A light shone through the windows and Craig and Mary were visible in their parlor.

“Let’s drop in for a moment,” Dave suggested. It was sheer vanity, the desire to show off his protegé, to parade Angus a bit—perhaps to hear words of praise for him.

Angus peered into the room, assured himself that Lydia was not there, and nodded his acquiescence. They were cordially received as always in the Browning home. When they were seated there fell a sort of preliminary hush.