“Get her out!” Adams said, harshly; then cried, “Wait!”
Alice, moving toward the door, halted, and looked at him blankly, over her mother's shoulder. “What is it, papa?”
He stretched out his arm and pointed at her. “She says—she says you have a mean life, Alice.”
“No, papa.”
Mrs. Adams turned in her daughter's arms. “Do you hear her lie? Couldn't you be as brave as she is, Virgil?”
“Are you lying, Alice?” he asked. “Do you have a mean time?”
“No, papa.”
He came toward her. “Look at me!” he said. “Things like this dance now—is that so hard to bear?”
Alice tried to say, “No, papa,” again, but she couldn't. Suddenly and in spite of herself she began to cry.
“Do you hear her?” his wife sobbed. “Now do you——”