But she refused to listen. Walking up and down the room, gesticulating wildly, she kept crying:
"Go—do you hear—go!"
He took a seat on a trunk. Instantly she turned on him like an infuriated tigress, attempting to push him off by sheer strength.
"No, you won't," she screamed; "you won't stay here! You're not going to do this thing again. I tell you, I'm going to be happy. I tell you, I'm going to be married. You won't see him! I tell you, you won't tell him! You've got no business to. I hate you! I've hated you for months! I hate the sight of your face! I've wanted to go, and now I'm going. You've got to go, do you hear? You've got to get out—get out!"
Such an exhibition of rage in this usually mild girl was something so strange and uncanny that it suddenly aroused in him a feeling of disgust. After all, why should he care? He ought to be glad to get out and be through with her. As she pushed him again, he rose, and threw her off, causing her to stagger to a chair. With a gesture of impatience, he went towards the door.
"What the hell is the use of fussing with a woman?" he exclaimed.
The door slammed noisily behind him. Sinking down on her knees, Laura started to pack with renewed vigor, crying hysterically:
"I want to be happy! I'm going to be married, I'm going to be happy!"
CHAPTER XX.