“What you goin' to do?” Lem asked.
“No matter,” she said. “You are going to tell me what you did with that money.”
Lem watched her uneasily. She drew on her shoes with the brisk movements of one who knows exactly what she has planned to do and how she has planned to do it. She drew the shoe-laces taut with little jerks that made the metal tips snap against the shoes.
“Are you going to wale me?” asked Lem.
“No matter. You'll know soon enough.”
“I ain't afraid of being waled,” said Lem. Henrietta was snapping the hooks of her corset now, not looking at Lem. There was a businesslike briskness in the way she snapped hook after hook and reached for her skirt that frightened Lem.
“Well, anyway, you might tell a feller what you're goin' to do to him,” he said uneasily.
“Never mind,” Henrietta said, and jerked the band of the skirt two inches to the left around her waist. She reached for her jacket and thrust her arms into the sleeves, reaching for her hat almost the same instant.
“Well, what do I care who knows where I put the money?” said Lem. “I made her mad, all right. I wa'n't afraid to say where I put it. You don't need to think I'm afraid to.” Henrietta jabbed a pin into her hat and put her hand on the doorknob.
“Where did you put it?” she demanded.