And he caught her by the arm and thrust her into the hall, slamming the door behind her.
Angelica rushed up-stairs like a whirlwind and into Polly’s room, panting, quite beside herself with fury.
"Him!" she cried. "He turned me out! Took me by the arm and shoved me out into the hall! He——”
Polly had been putting on her hat before the mirror, but she threw it down in haste, to give all her attention to this frantic young thing.
"What were you saying to him?" she asked, mildly.
"Nothing! Not a blame thing! Only just asking him for my money, like you told me. Ah, he’s a fine feller, he is! The names he called me—and just last night crying and saying he couldn’t live away from me!"
And she told all the story to Polly—even showed her Vincent’s letter.
"Now!" she said. "Give me my carfare, and I’ll go."
"I have nothing. Perhaps Mrs. Russell——”
But Mrs. Russell was out. Polly was in misery. There was this terrible girl, demanding her money, implacably waiting for it, this girl whom her husband had treated so shockingly. Her only wish in life was to be rid of her.