And you'll apologize to me or I'll never
speak to you again."
She said this loudly, and then went away, And Mr. Beecher
said, through the door.
"What the Devil's the row about?"
Perhaps my nerves were going, or possably it was no
luncheon and probably no dinner. But I said, just as if he had
been an ordinary person:
"Go on and write and get through. I can't stew on these
steps all day."
"I thought you were an amiable Child."
"I'm not amiable and I'm not a Child."
"Don't spoil your pretty face with frowns."
"It's _my_ face. And you can't see it anyhow," I replied,
venting in femanine fashion, my anger at Jane on the nearest
object.
"Look here," he said, through the door, "you've been my
good Angel. I'm doing more work than I've done in two months,
although it was a dirty, low-down way to make me do it. You're
not going back on me now, are you?"
Well, I was mollafied, as who would not be? So I said:
"Well?"
"What did Patten do with my clothes?"
"He took them with him." He was silent, except for a
muttered word.
"You might throw those Keys back again," he said.
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