"I've made up my mind," said Gertie, folding her arms across her breast, "so it's no good talking."
"Don't you see that it's bad enough to have to beg your pardon before Eddie?"
"Good Lord!" said Gertie irritably, "why can't you call him Ed like the rest of us. 'Eddie' sounds so sappy."
"I've called him Eddie all my life: it's what our mother called him," said Nora sadly.
"Oh, it's all of a piece. You do everything you can to make yourself different from all of us."
She stalked over to the window and stood with folded arms looking out toward the wood-pile on which Reggie was seated—it is to be presumed having a moment's respite after his arduous labors.
"No, I don't," pleaded Nora. "At least I don't mean to. Why won't you give me any credit for trying to do my best to please you?"
"That's neither here nor there." She suddenly wheeled about, facing them both. "Go and fetch the men, Ed, and then I'll hear what she's got to say."
"No, I won't, I won't, I won't!" cried Nora furiously. "You drive me too far."
"You won't beg my pardon?" demanded Gertie threateningly. If she wished to drive Nora beside herself, she accomplished her purpose.