” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed.
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