Oil wells in the woods . nd remorseful con-science, felt nervous and depressed. When the ceremony was over, and the few invitedguests had taken their departure, and the expresswas bearing the bride and groom away, Smedley,after seeing his friend Graham to bed, crept back tothe library, and closed the door. The room was heavy damp fog had risen from the river andenveloped the city. Lighting the fire in the grate,he sank into a chair before the warming blaze. Through the mist before his eyes he looked dis-consolately into the fire. As Graham was about to retire, he caught thesound of muff
Oil wells in the woods . nd remorseful con-science, felt nervous and depressed. When the ceremony was over, and the few invitedguests had taken their departure, and the expresswas bearing the bride and groom away, Smedley,after seeing his friend Graham to bed, crept back tothe library, and closed the door. The room was heavy damp fog had risen from the river andenveloped the city. Lighting the fire in the grate,he sank into a chair before the warming blaze. Through the mist before his eyes he looked dis-consolately into the fire. As Graham was about to retire, he caught thesound of muffled sobs coming from below. Hestepped out into the hall and listened, peering downinto the dark below. Poor devil,,, he thought. Its hell anyway,and returning to his room he dressed, and noiselesslycrept down stairs. At the door of the library he paused and devil, he repeated. Softly he opened thedoor, and as softly closed it when he stepped the full glare of the fire Smedley sat, supporting [228]. The famous 646. From an old photograph. Kindness of H. C. Zeigler, Muncie, Ind. THE FAMOUS 646 his head with one hand, which in turn rested uponthe arm of the chair. Graham stepped cautiouslyto his side. What is emotion? he asked himself, lookingcompassionately upon the grief-stricken man beforehim. A man with too much is cursed in this world,and one without it only exists, for nothing then appealsto the cold selfishness within. A little is a virtue,and to it belongs the poets success, and the lovershappiness. Too much distorts the nervous system,and judgment is warped by pseudo sympathies. Graham was right, Smedley muttered audibly. I think he was wrong, Graham returned, layinga hand on his shoulder. Come, man, get somesmokes, and let us try our hand at checkers or some-thing; this is no way to be going on. The suddenness of Grahams voice, together withthe feeling that he was alone, sent a creepy chillthrough Smedley. When did you come in? heasked, grasping t
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