There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. The Law was around the corner and down the narrow hall, puffing a Virginia Slims Menthol in frantic sips, teetering uncomfortably out of an emergency exit door. She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. "The gentleman under the table," she answered. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. It had been cut down before life was extinct, but a ball from one of the soldiers had pierced his heart. “Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world.
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