"Now why are you coming at me?" expostulated her brother. There was an unpleasant whine in his voice.
But Balcome failed to note it. "By golly!" he complained. "Women are all alike!"
"I'm coming at you," explained Sue, "because I know Alan Farvel. And I don't believe he could do any woman such a hurt that she wouldn't want to see him again, or forgive him. That's why."
"But you think I could! I must say, you're a nice sister!"
"I must say that your whole attitude today has been curious, to put it mildly."
"If I don't satisfy your woman's curiosity, you get even by putting me in the wrong." Again there was that unpleasant whine.
"No. But Mr. Farvel was relieved when he thought you had told me about this matter. And the fact is, you haven't told me at all."
He was cornered. His tall figure sagged. And his eyes fell before his sister's. "I—I," he began. Then in an outburst, "It's Hattie I'm thinking of! Hattie!"
"Ah, as if I don't think of Hattie!" Sue's voice trembled. "I want to think you've had nothing to do with this. I couldn't bear it if anything hurt her—her happiness—with you."
Outside, the stairs creaked heavily. Then sounded a bang, bang, as of some heavy thing falling. Next came Tottie's voice, shrill, and strangely triumphant: "Hey there! You're tryin' to sneak! Yes, you are! And you haven't paid me!"