He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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