"Oh, don't talk to me about Wally! … No; he isn't out of town. That's why I'm here…. Can I have my old room?"
She was down again soon, her eyes brighter than they should have been, her manner so high strung that it wasn't far from being flighty. As though to avoid conversation, she seated herself at the piano and played her most brilliant pieces.
"I think you might tell me," said Mary, in the first lull.
"I told you long ago. Men are fools! But if he thinks he can bully me—!"
"Who?"
"Wally!" Mary's exclamation of surprise was drowned in the ballet from Coppelia. "I don't allow any man to worry me!" said Helen over her shoulder.
"But, Helen—don't you think it's just possible—that you've been worrying him?"
A crashing series of chords was her only answer. In the middle of a run
Helen topped and swung around on the bench.
"Talking about worrying people," she said. "What's the matter with Burdon down at the office lately? What have you been doing to him?"
"Helen! What a thing to say!"