“Do not talk like that, Mamie. I do not like it.”
Mamie laughed, and showed her beautiful teeth. There was a vicious sparkle in her eyes.
“You want to be taken back, I suppose,” she said. “Tell me the truth—do you love her still?”
George suddenly caught her by the two wrists and held her before him. He was annoyed and yet he could not help being amused.
“Mamie, you shall not say such things! You are as spiteful as a little wild-cat!”
“Am I? I am glad of it—and I am not in the least afraid of you, or your big hands or your black looks.”
George laughed and dropped her hands with a little shake, half angry, half playful.
“I really believe you are not!” he exclaimed.
“Of course not! Was she? Or were you afraid of her? Which was it? Oh, how I would have liked to see you together when you were angry with each other! She can be very angry, you know. She was yesterday. She would have liked to tear me to pieces with those long nails of hers. I hate people who have long nails!”
“You seem to hate a great many people this morning. I wish you would leave her alone.”