Some one had stepped on it. Among the
unanswerable questions stands prominently: Why do we laugh when a man
loses his hat? Thomas burned with a mixture of rage and shame; shame
that Kitty should witness his discomfiture and rage that, by the time
he had retrieved the hat, the ghost had disappeared.
However, Thomas acted as a polished man of the world, as if
eight-dollar opera-hats were mere nothings. He held it out for Kitty
to inspect, smiling. Then he crushed it under his arm (where the
broken spring behaved like an unlatched jack-in-the-box) and led the
way to the Killigrew limousine.
"I am sorry, Mr. Webb," said Kitty, biting her lips.
"Now, now! Honestly, don't you know, I hated the thing. I knew
something would happen. I never realized till this moment that it is
an art all by itself to wear a high hat without feeling and looking
like a silly ass."
He laughed, honestly and heartily; and Kitty laughed, and so did her
mother. Subtle barriers were swept away, and all three of them became
what they had not yet been, friends.
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