“I’ll wrap them in a newspaper,” she said.
Miss Amy stood there threatening, entreating, arguing, but Rosaleen was like a stone. She did wrap her things in a newspaper; then she put on her hat and coat and went out into the passage. Miss Amy stood with her back against the front door.
“I won’t let you!” she cried. “Where would you go—all alone—at this time of night!”
A horrible fear had risen in her mind. If Rosaleen “went wrong,” she would be responsible. She didn’t much care what else happened to her, as long as that was avoided. But she couldn’t have that on her conscience.
“Morton!” she cried, desperately. “Morton! Come out and speak to this wicked, headstrong girl!”
No earthly power could have brought the author into this. He didn’t even answer. He got up from his desk and slipped across the room, and very quietly locked the door.
“I won’t let you out!” cried Miss Amy.
“I’ll stand here till you do!” said Rosaleen firmly.
. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .