Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. I make no apology for not being with you now. ” Pause. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. ‘I knew it. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. .
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