Something seemed to tighten around Flora's throat as the men emerged from the lift, gingerly handling the great roll of wall screen.
"Harry...."
"Four walls," Harry said triumphantly. "I told you I was working toward something, remember? Well, this is it! By God, the Harry Trimble's have shown 'em!"
"Harry—I can't—not four walls...."
"I know you're a little overwhelmed—but you deserve it, Flora—"
"Harry, I don't WANT four walls! I can't stand it! It will be all around me—"
Harry stepped to her side, gripped her wrist fiercely. "Shut up!" he hissed. "Do you want the workmen to think you're out of your mind?" He grinned at the men. "How about a coflet, boys?"
"You kiddin?" one inquired. The other went silently about the work of rolling out the panel, attaching contact strips. Another reached for the sea-scene—
"No!" Flora threw herself against the wall, as though to cover the pictures with her body. "You can't take my pictures! Harry, don't let them."
"Look, sister, I don't want your crummy pictures."