"No. But—"
"Nor, pardon, the practice of politeness. Ba'teese will not need your help."
"Whether you need it or not, I'll come back when you're through with this infernal horseplay. I—"
"Ba'teese choose his guests."
"You mean—"
"Ba'teese mean what he say."
"Very well, then. Come on, Medaine."
The girl, apparently without a thought of the air of proprietorship in the man's tone, rose, only to face Ba'tiste. The Canadian glowered at her.
"And are you chattel?" he stormed. "Do you stand in the cup of his hand that he shall tell you when to rise and when to sit, when to walk and where to go?"
She turned.