She ran over to the blotter.
Fool! Blighter! Rotter! Double-dyed ass! Blockhead! Kitty Killigrew--( scratched out)! Nincompoop! Haberdasher! Ass! All of which indicated to the investigator that Thomas for the present had not a high opinion of himself.

An ordinary young woman would have laughed herself into hysterics.

Kitty tore off the scribbles, not the least sign of laughter in her eyes, and sought the window-seat in the living-room.

There was one word which stood out strangely alien: haberdasher.

Why that word?
Was it a corner of the curtain she had been striving to look behind?
Had Thomas been a haberdasher prior to his stewardship?
And was he ashamed of the fact?
Haberdasher.
What's the matter with that word?
If it irked Thomas it irked Kitty no less.