“You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. She always left the table when they began to smoke. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice.
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