“Am I! Am I! So, I am not hurt; I am as other women?” Then she laughed.
He had heard laughter of many sorts, this man whose work had for years taken him to asylums, to prisons, to locked rooms in stately palaces, rooms where the windows were barred with iron bars; but he had never heard a laugh like this; it had in it all of mystery of which he had ever known, and something else, some nameless thing that rang in his ears for many years, and that seemed for a moment to stop the beating of his heart.
Her laughter stopped, and she turned wearily to leave the room, and as she did so they heard the outside door open, then close with a crash, and John Dorris stood in the doorway, facing her.
“You—you lied to me!”
Dr. Barnhelm stepped forward angrily.
“John!”
John did not turn his head but kept his eyes on her.
“You told me that you spent the afternoon with Dr. Rupert’s wife.”
“I did.”
“I met Rupert in the car. I told him what you said, and he laughed at me. His wife is on her way to Europe.”