was a child, since I can remember.—They say of me, when I was a little girl of four, and my parents were having a big dinner party, they had the nurse bring me in to say good-night to all the people they had there dressed up and eating and drinking. And I suppose they all said nice things to me, as they do. I only answered: You are all monkeys! It was a great success!—But I felt it even as a child, and I feel it now. People are all monkeys to me, performing in different ways.”
“Even the people nearest you?”
Kate hesitated. Then she confessed, rather unwillingly:
“Yes! I’m afraid so. Both my husbands—even Joachim—they seemed, somehow, so obstinate in their little stupidities—rather like monkeys. I felt a terrible revulsion from Joachim when he was dead. I thought: What peaked monkey is that,