The dining-room door was open, but no one was in the dining-room. The kitchen door, however, was shut and from behind it I heard Dorinda's voice.
“You can get right out of this house,” she said. “I don't care if you've got a mortgage on the rest of the Cape! You ain't got one on this house, and you nor nobody else shall stay in it and talk that way. There's the door.”
“Dorindy!” wailed another voice—Lute's. “You mustn't talk so—to him! Don't you realize—”
“I realize that if I had a husband instead of a jellyfish I shouldn't have to talk. Be still, you!”
A third voice made itself heard.
“All right,” it growled. “I ain't anxious to stay here any longer than is necessary. Bein' an honest, decent man, I'm ashamed to be seen here as it is. But you can tell that low-lived sneak, Ros Paine, that—”
I opened the door.
“You may tell him yourself, Captain Dean,” said I. “What is it?”