She was ready to spit contemptuously upon the floor and leave him. But Drabkin seized upon her last words.
“Chased out? Not so quick, my dear! They don’t chase me out in a hurry!”
“They’re afraid of you, I suppose!” she snarled. “I wouldn’t let you cross my threshold!”
“Well, you see that they do!” he boasted.
“Wild man!” she commented in disgust.
“Aha!” was his victorious response.
After that “aha” the old woman spoke no more. She spat out in scorn, adjusted the scarf over her wig and walked away from him.
“‘Sploiters, poiters.’” She continued to repeat the evil word to herself with anger.
II
But he was vied in an utterly different light by Chashke, the old woman’s daughter.