“Rot! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to be tricked by such a cheap little humbug.”
They were interrupted by Horace coming upstairs in profound distress.
“Hush!” he whispered, “You can be heard!”
“What the devil do I care?” demanded Julie.
“Can’t you behave like a lady?” he asked, still in a whisper.
Her famous temper began to heat.
“A lady!” she cried, “You wouldn’t know a lady if you saw one, any of you. A fine lot! A fat old money-grubber like you, and a grafter like Lionel, and that slut downstairs! I certainly must be on my best behaviour here.”
The manners acquired in the city had dropped away, revealing the older, truer self, the violent and reckless daughter of the “Cattle King,” the spoiled princess of a primitive community. She had plenty to say, she put her hands on her slim hips and attacked them all with vigour, thoroughly enjoying herself. She wanted to score off Minnie, and she did. And Minnie had to pretend not to hear. This was the sort of woman she couldn’t cope with, a woman she feared.
Horace tried to remonstrate.
“Shut up, Horace,” she said, briskly, “The creature’s a ——. Can’t you see the condition she’s in, and they haven’t been married a month?”