He found his voice. "You weren't sticking up for him this time last week," he sneered. "You were hating him like poison. Has the old woman had a change of heart, too? Is she letting him sit in her lap so's she can feed him with a spoon when he's hungry and—"
"I wouldn't marry you if you were the only man in the world, Barry Lapelle," said she, her voice low with passion.
She whirled and walked rapidly away from him, her head in the air, her hands clenched. Leaping to his feet, he started after her, calling:
"Wait a minute, Viola! Can't you see I'm almost out of my head over what you've—Oh, well, go it! I'm not going to CRAWL after you! But let me tell you one thing, my girl. You'll be talking out of the other side of your mouth before you're much older. You'll be down on your knees—"
"Don't you follow me another step!" she cried over her shoulder.
He was not more than two yards behind her when she uttered this withering command. He stopped short in his tracks.
"Well, this is a hell of a way to treat a gentleman!" he shouted, hoarse with fury.