Energy books

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The butler was sure it was apoplexy, but the chauffeur, out of a wide
experience, announced, behind his hand, that he would be all right
the instant the words ceased to stick in his throat. And he was
right. Mr. Blithers _was_ all right. Not even the chauffeur had
seen him when he was more so.
A little later on, after he had cooled off to a quite considerable
extent, Mr. Blithers lighted a cigar and sat down in the hall outside
his wife's bed-chamber door. She was having her beauty nap. Not even
he possessed the temerity to break in upon that. He sat and listened
for the first sound that would indicate the appeasement of beauty,
occasionally hitching his chair a trifle nearer to the door in the
agony of impatience. By the time Jackson returned from the village
with word that a copy of _Town Truth_ was not to be had until
the next day, he was so close to the door that if any one had
happened to stick a hat pin through the keyhole at precisely the
right instant it would have punctured his left ear with appalling
results.


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