The girl stopped her drumming and glanced up.
“You can leave me out of all this argument,” she remarked, “for I don’t figure. No more Broadway for mine after ten o’clock to-night, and it’s a case of good-by for you, too, Jack.”
“I suppose that’s another one of your funny jokes,” said Jack, “but I don’t like those kind of stories, so you can cut it out.”
“No funny story about it at all,” she went on, in that even, monotonous way which is particularly aggravating. “I’m tired of this way of living, and I’m tired of being a coaling station, and I know when I got enough.”
“Where are you going?”
She had resumed her drumming and paid no attention.
“Who are you going with?”
“That’s none of your damned business.”
He leaned forward and taking her by the wrist gave her a vicious pull toward him.
“I suppose it’s that guy from the country?”