“Cheveney!” she repeated. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. “I’ll get a towel.
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