I feel like a fraudulent trustee. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. 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. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. "Damnation!" exclaimed one of the leaders of the party in a furious tone, snatching a torch from an attendant, and throwing its light full upon the face of the carpenter; "this is not the villain, Sir Cecil. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady.
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