“That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. He folded the garments carefully and replaced them on the chair. For a space he rode the whirligig. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. I must go to work again.
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