“I don't care the least about your luck,” Henrietta said. “You are an ungrateful, inconsiderate wretch. I 'll say it plainly. I'm utterly disgusted.”
“Oh, quit it!” said Todder rudely.
“I feel like quitting it—like quitting everything—forever,” she said. “I get so tired. God! how tired I get! And you never show the least consideration.”
She looked toward the house.
“We can't stand here,” she said. “Walk along with me. We must settle this now, Freeman.”
“Settle nothing!” he growled, but he walked beside her, going down the steps and turning down the street.
“It is not fair to me, Freeman,” she said. “I owe both the girls so much already, and Miss Redding for weeks and weeks. It has been hard, letting them think I am a silly old fool, and planning to make them think it. I don't know how much longer I might have gone on with it. Now that is ended.”
Freeman said nothing.
“I could n't have gone on with it much longer, but now it has come to an end,” Henrietta continued. “For one reason they simply can't lend me any more. No matter how amused they may be over thinking that I am a great silly, buying myself presents and pretending I get them from my Billy Vane, they can't spare the money. And you make me so furious, doing as you did last night, getting rid of even the few dollars I could get. You might at least spend the money sensibly. You might try to help me, when everything I do is for you.”
“A lot you'd do for me if I did n't scare it out of you,” Freeman scoffed, and turned his hard eyes on her. “And you'll do a lot more for me, too. You've got to. I'm in bad.”