She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. . He looked at her guiltily. "I am. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt.
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