"I should think he would step up! Lively! Well, I can't stop you, can I? You don't have to have my consent to make a laughing-stock out of yourself? Have you signed up with Blenham already?"
Temple sought to assume an air of dignity which went poorly with his ragged slippers and bleary eye.
"Blenham has his money in a safe in Red Creek. There will be papers to be signed. We are going there now. I—I am sorry you take it this way, Teresa."
Then she sprang to her feet, her two hands clenched, her eyes blazing.
"And I," she cried hotly, "am sorry. Oh, I am ashamed! that one of the name of Temple should sink so low as to hobnob with a cur and a scoundrel, a cheat, a liar, and all that Blenham is, and that you and I and the whole country know he is! I'd rather see Old Hell-Fire Packard break you and grind you under foot than see you stand there and drink with that thing!"
And that there should be no mistake her finger shot out, pointing at Blenham.
"Terry!" commanded her father, "be silent. You don't know what you are saying!"
"Don't I, though! I—I——"
Blenham laughed as she broke off, laughed again as he stood watching how she was breathing rapidly.
"Pretty puss," he said impudently, "you need them pink-an'-white nails of your'n trimmed."