“No!” he said. “Too late to go down to the island to-day.”
“Too late!” said she. “And me waiting here all the afternoon! What do you mean, too late?”
“When I say too late, I mean too late,” replied Mr. Pirini, with his own special insolence.
“Well!” said Miss Riordan. “I don’t care!”
This speech was surely a cue for exit, but she did not go. She said to herself, as usual, that she just wanted to stay and tell that fellow what she thought of him—which was manifestly impossible, as she had[Pg 222] never yet been able to discover what she really did think of him, except that she hated him.
There he stood, with his gray spats and his gray felt hat, worn rakishly, and even new gray gloves. She knew that he had no job, nothing at all to justify his swagger. Very likely he hadn’t enough in his pocket to pay for his dinner. What cared he? He wouldn’t even thank her if she paid for it.
“Now you just look here, Louis!” she began in a trembling voice.
“All right! I’m lookin’!” said he.
His white teeth showed in a broad smile, and his eyes were fixed steadily upon her. Though Miss Riordan, when she looked in the mirror, may have seen an image which somewhat flattered the truth, she had no illusions as to how she appeared in the eyes of Mr. Pirini. She tried to roll the magazine so that her hands should be concealed. She changed the position of her feet.
“All right!” she said. “You can keep on looking!”