"It's going to be pretty tough, sir, to tell you--some of this," stammered Herrick, frowning at the carpet. "Penelope got awfully angry and said she was going to leave. I apologized and tried to square myself, but she wouldn't have it. She said I had insulted her and she refused to stay in my place another minute. I asked her to wait until I could get a dry coat and umbrella for her and then I would take her wherever she wanted to go. She agreed to wait and I went into the other room." Christopher paused and drew his chair closer to the doctor. "Now here is a most extraordinary thing. When I left Penelope she was standing before the fire, furious with me, but when I came back, not two minutes later, she was lying on the divan with her eyes closed, apparently asleep. As I had been out of the room for so short a time, it seemed incredible that she could have really fallen asleep, yet there she was. I looked at her in astonishment. I wondered if she could have fainted, but I saw that her cheeks were flushed, her lips were red and she was breathing regularly. I didn't know what to make of it." "Well?" questioned the doctor. Herrick shifted uneasily on his chair. "I haven't had much experience with women, sir, but I know they are complicated creatures, and I couldn't help thinking that Penelope was playing a little joke on me; so I bent over her and, after I had made up my mind that she wasn't ill and wasn't asleep, I--I kissed her again. That's another queer thing. Her lips were warm, her breathing was as soft and regular as a child's, but she never moved nor spoke nor responded in any way. She just lay there and--" "You thought she was shamming?" suggested Owen. "That's it, especially as she had been so angry with me just a few minutes before. I couldn't imagine anything else. So--er--" "Go on," said the older man. "You know I have always respected women, and this woman was more to me than anything--she's the woman I want for my wife, so you see I would be the last man in the world to show her disrespect, but--" the young fellow flushed--"as I looked at her there on the divan--so beautiful--I longed to hold her in my arms and I said to myself that, even if she was tricking me, it was quite a pleasing trick--if she could stand it, I could--so I--I kissed her some more. I begged her to speak to me, to respond to me, to tell me she returned my love and would be my wife; but she didn't answer, didn't move, or speak, she didn't even open her eyes, and presently I was filled with a horrible sense of shame. I felt like a thief in the night, stealing caresses that were not meant for me or willingly given. I realized that something terrible must have happened to Penelope, although she looked so calm and beautiful.