Meantime Kitty sat on the bench, stunned. Never before in all her life
had such a thing happened. True, young men had at times attempted to
kiss her, but not in this fashion. A rough embrace, a kiss on her cheek,
and he had gone. Not a word, not a sign of apology. She could not have
been more astounded had a thunder-bolt struck at her feet, nor more
bereft of action. She must have sat there fully ten minutes without
movement. From Thomas, the guileless, this! What did it mean? She
could not understand. Had he instantly begged forgiveness, had he made
protestations of sentiment, a glimmering would have been hers. Nothing;
he had kissed her and walked away: as he might have kissed Celeste, and
had, for all she knew!

When the numbing sense of astonishment passed away, it left her cold with
anger. Kitty was a dignified young lady, and she would not tolerate such
an affront from any man alive. It was more than an affront; it was a
dire catastrophe. What should she do now? What would become of all her
wonderfully maneuvered plans?

She went directly to her room and flung herself upon the bed, bewildered
and unhappy. And there Killigrew found her. He was a wise old man,
deeply versed in humanity, having passed his way up through all sorts and
conditions of it to his present peaceful state.

"Kittibudget, what the deuce is all this about? . . . You've been
crying!"