“Go—get out—go away from me. I’m sick of it all. I’ll stand no more—go—go.”
She ran to the door and threw it open. I got up to make my escape. Neither of them appeared to remember I was there.
“All right,” he said, calmly rising. “That suits me perfectly.”
He picked up his hat and coat and moved to the door. I tried to get there before him, dodging about behind their backs for an exit, then, like a frightened chicken, made a nervous dive and got between them. Her hand on my arm flung me back as if I had been a chair in the way. I had a glimpse of her full face, white and with burning eyes. She frightened me.
Mr. Masters walked into the hall and there came to a standstill. After looking at the back and front of his hat he settled it comfortably on his head and moved toward the stairs.
Suddenly she rushed after him and caught him by the arm.
“No—no—” she cried. “Don’t go.”
I couldn’t see her face, but his was in plain view and it looked exceedingly bored.
“What is it now?” he said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m so discouraged—you take the heart out of me. I don’t know what I’m saying and I’ve tried so hard—oh, Jack—”