"Well, I thought maybe I'd take her there; kinder fun walking round and seeing things, what?" George submitted.
Emeline shrugged. "I don't care what you do!"
She sat down before a dresser with a triple mirror, which had lately been added to the bedroom furniture, and began to ruffle the coarse puffs of her black hair with slim, ringed fingers.
"You've got something better to do, of course!" George said.
"Don't go to a matinee, Mother!" said Julia, coming to lean coaxingly against her mother's arm. Emeline looked down at the pale, intelligent little face, and gave the child a sudden kiss.
"Mama isn't going to a matinee, doll baby. But papa ain't as crazy for her to go to the Park as you are!" she said, with an oblique and challenging glance at George.
"Oh, come on!" George urged impatiently. "Only don't wear that rotten hat," he added. "It don't look like a respectable woman!"
Emeline's expression did not change, but fury seethed within her.
"Don't wait for me," she said levelly. "I'm not going."
"Well, put the kid's hat on then," George suggested, settling his own with some care at the mantel mirror.