“Amelia,” he said masterfully, “if you don’t stop that! Listen—we’ve got to get down to business.”
She hastily brushed the tears from her eyes. She was humming once more, and tapping the toe of her boot on the carpet, though she was not tapping it in time to her tune.
“Why did you come down without letting me know?” Vernon went on; but still she was silent.
“You might at least have given me—”
“Warning?” she said, with a keen inflection.
“Amelia!” he said, and his tone carried a rebuke.
“Well, I don’t care!” she cried. “It’s all true! You couldn’t stay for my dinner, but you could come off down here and—”
She covered her face with her hands and burst suddenly into tears. Vernon gazed at her in astonishment.
“Why, dearest!” he said, leaning over, and trying to take her in his arms. She drew away from him, and sobbed. Vernon glanced about the room helplessly. He pleaded with her, but she would not listen; neither would she be comforted, but continued to sob. Vernon, in a man’s anguish with a weeping woman, stood up.
“Amelia! Amelia!” He bent over her and spoke firmly. “You must not! Listen to me! We must go over to—”