DeSoto, seemed to notice her thoroughly. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. . It isn’t illusions—for us. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. You can tell me the rest another time. Here goes. With some difficulty, they managed to negotiate the passage with their burden and carry him out into the library. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it.
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