dBooks desire

But he
disappointed her. That was one of the situations in which
one appeals in vain to the resources of language. He
shrank and sank back in his chair, his jaw dropped,
and he vented a strange, imbecile cackling laugh. It
was not an expression of philosophic mirth, of sense
of the grotesqueness of an anti-climax. It was not an
expression of any emotion whatever. It was simply a
signal from a mind temporarily dethroned.
``What are you laughing at?'' she said sharply.
His answer was a repetition of the idiotic sound.
``What's the matter with you?'' demanded she.
``Please close your mouth.''
It was a timely piece of advice; for his upper and
false teeth had become partially dislodged and
threatened to drop upon the shirt-bosom gayly showing
between the lapels of his dark-blue silk house-coat. He
slowly closed his mouth, moving his teeth back into
place with his tongue--a gesture that made her face
twitch with rage and disgust.
``Seven thousand dollars,'' he mumbled dazedly.
``I said less than half that,'' retorted she sharply.


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