"I know where you been, dad," she taunted.
He stayed at the study-door, like a great pawing bear.
Then he answered suddenly and with a smile.
"I've been in heaven."
She slammed the door of the range; smiling, cruel, the school-girl who teases.
"I know where your tobacco money goes, old dad," she continued.
His mind was far too big and vague and mooning often to be able to encounter successfully the darts his wife occasionally shot into his large carcase.
"He's a beautiful boy," was all he now made answer, as he disappeared.
Whether the wound he dealt was deliberately given in self-defence, or unconsciously because he had the power over her, his words stung Anne Caspar to the quick.
She turned white, and sat down in the lonely kitchen her wrung old hands twisted in her lap, hugging her wound.