’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the broad staircase. “How would you prevent it?” she asked. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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