" She didn't look at him, she
looked at me. She knew I knew she lied.
His smile faded.
"Well," he said, "speaking of disliking amiability, you don't hate
yourself, I'm sure."
"You are wrong," she retorted, "I loathe myself." And she walked to the
window. He took a step or two after her.
"Why do it at all?" he asked in a low tone. "You don't love him--you
can't. And if it isn't love--" He remembered me suddenly and stopped.
"Please go on," she said sweetly from the window. "Do not mind Minnie.
She is my conscience, anyhow. She is always scolding me; you might both
scold in chorus."
"I wouldn't presume to scold."
"Then give me a little advice and look superior and righteous. I'm
accustomed to that also."
"As long as you are in this mood, I can't give you anything but a very
good day," he said angrily, and went toward the door. But when he had
almost reached it he turned.
"I will say this," he said, "you have known for three days that Mr.
Thoburn was going to have a supper to-night, and you didn't let us know.
You must have known his purpose."
I guess I was as surprised as she was. I'd never suspected she knew.
She looked at him over her shoulder.
"Why shouldn't he have a supper?" she demanded angrily. "I'm
starving--we're all starving for decent food. I'm kept here against my
will. Why shouldn't I have one respectable meal? You with your wretched
stewed fruits and whole-wheat breads! Ugh!"
"I'm sorry. Thoburn's idea, of course, is to make the guests
discontented, so they will leave.
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