“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Putting on my hat,” she answered calmly.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
He smiled.
“Well, good-by!” he said.
Taking the key out of the lock, he went out of the kitchen, slamming and locking the door behind him.
“She can stay in there and think it over!” he said to himself.
III
Brecky made an effort to be light, careless, superior. He whistled as he went upstairs to the two rooms they used on the floor above—one as a bedroom, the other as a sort of office, where Brecky “saw people.” He had plenty of material to occupy himself with here—letters and catalogues and estimates and so on. A little gas stove was burning in one corner, and the room was as neat, cheerful, and comfortable as it could be made by Kathleen’s benevolent genius.