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And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. Stanley changed his key. When any violent outrage was committed,—and such matters were of daily, sometimes hourly, occurrence,—a bell, the rope of which descended into the hall, brought the whole of the turnkeys to their assistance. The lonely widows of robber barons found him irresistible and he was the guest of many a fine table. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted.
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