Myra gazed at him as if she were hypnotized, but Rhona's eyes flashed.
"Why not?"
"Don't jaw me," said the man. "But—clear out!"
Rhona tried to speak naturally.
"Isn't this a public street? Haven't I a right to walk up and down with my friend?"
Then Myra felt as if she were struck by lightning, or as if something sacred in her womanhood had been outraged.
With a savage growl: "You little sheeny!" the man suddenly struck out a fist and hit Rhona in the chest. She lurched, doubled, and fell, saving herself with her hands. Myra did not move, but a shock of horror went through her.
The two other young men in the doorway came forward, and home-goers paused, drew close, looked on curiously and silently. One nudged another.
"What's up?"
"Don't know!"