Her lip curled.
“I read the papers,” she said, and then added, significantly, “this once, anyway.”
“Well, you certainly don’t intend to hold me responsible for what the papers say, do you?”
She resumed her old attitude, her elbow on the arm of the sofa, her chin in her hand, and looked out the window. And she began to hum again.
“And then,” he pressed on, “to come down here and not even let me know; why you even called me Mister Vernon when I came into the dining-room.”
“Yes,” she exclaimed, suddenly wheeling about, “I saw you come into the dining-room this morning!” Her eyes grew dark and flashed.
He regretted, on the instant.
“I saw you!” she went on. “I saw you rush up to that Maria Burlaps Greene woman, and—oh, it was horrid!”
“Her name isn’t Burlaps, dear,” said Vernon.
“How do you know her name, I’d like to know!” She put her hands to her face. He saw her tears.