§ 102 The Really Important Point
Among the writer’s acquaintances is a well-to-do person who spends his summers cruising about in a private yacht. One afternoon near Cape Cod he dropped anchor just off a village for the night. While he was sitting on deck puffing a cigar before retiring, he saw one native approach another who was perched upon the dock and heard the newcomer say, in excited tones:
“I walked in my house awhile ago and the first thing I noticed was some blood spots on the kitchen floor. And then I seen how everything was mussed up, so that give me a kind of a start, and I dropped everything and went on into the settin’-room, and there was my wife stretched out on the floor, plum’ unconscious, with a club layin’ alongside her where somebody had knocked her cold. It certainly was a terrible surprise. Here I come home, tired out after fishin’ all day long——”
“How was the fishin’?” inquired the friend.