" With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. “Women are mocked,” she said. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home.
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