And at last when she had set the nerves of all of them in a jangle, was dismissed to the kitchen and retired with a gasp of unspeakable relief.
Somewhat later in the evening young Haight was alone with Turner, and their conversation had taken a very unusual and personal turn.

All at once Turner exclaimed: "I often wonder what good I am in the world to anybody.

I don't _know_ a thing, I can't _do_ a thing.

I couldn't cook the plainest kind of a meal to _save_ me, and it took me all of two hours yesterday to do just a little buttonhole stitching.

I'm not good for anything.