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She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. "But I happen to be an honest man myself. It could not be she who had done this. He turned back at once. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter.
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