" With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder. “What has he done? “What shall I do. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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