“Barbara Morgan is in there—eh?” he said and the girl could almost see him nodding toward her room.
This time the girl heard the woman’s voice—and her words:
“Yes she’s there, the stuck-up hussy!”
The voice was that of the slattern.
The man laughed jeeringly.
“Jealous, eh?” he said. “Well, she is a mighty good-looking girl, for a fact!”
That was all. The girl heard Deveny step into a room—the room adjoining hers; she could hear his heavy boots striking the floor as he removed them.
For a long time the girl rested on her elbow, listening; but no further sounds came from the room into which Deveny had gone. At last, trembling, her face white with fear, the girl got up and stole noiselessly to the door.
A light bolt was the door’s only fastening; and the girl stood long, with a hand upon it, considering its frailty. How easy it would be for a big man like Deveny to force the door. One shove of his giant shoulder and the bolt would give.
Stealthily, noiselessly, straining with every ounce of her strength, she managed to lift the cheap bureau and carry it to the door, placing it against the latter, barricading it. Not satisfied, she dragged the bed over against the bureau.