" "You paint yourself worse than you are, dear Mrs. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. ‘You think I am like that Valade? No, a thousand times. ” “I can assure you,” he answered, “that it isn’t a habit of mine. Cathy opened her beauty shop, you know. ” His arms were around her.
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