The Mind Creative March 2014
carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her
sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood
waiting for them at the bottom.
Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently
Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his
grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the
accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood
amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to
screen him from the view of his wife.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease--of
the joy that kills.
50