She was unaffected by his fury.
“Honey bunch, oh honey!” she cooed. “Don’t get mad, baby!”
He turned on her in fury.
“You’ve done your best to make Miss Ford think I’m—I’m something to you. I would have forgiven you everything but that.”
“Well, ain’t you?” she drawled. “Ah, peachy boy, don’t be mad at your little snookums! Smile, baby, show little toothsies.”
Diana, in the opening of the kitchen door, heard only this.
“Will you kindly reserve your love-making until you are out of my house?” she asked severely.
At the sound of her voice Gordon reeled. The final straw had dropped brutally upon a camel, already over-burdened.
“Why, I don’t know,” said Heloise, her insolent gaze turned on the intruder. “It seems to me that a cook’s got a right to a li’l bit of love, honey? I’ll admit that Uncle Isaac ain’t so cute as darling Wopsy. But he’s a real nice boy in Aunt Lizzie’s eyes.”
Gordon would have intervened, but his spirit was broken. He slunk into the scullery and dropped his aching head upon the knife-machine.