Nancy’s face flamed.
“I can make it a little too hot for her if she does.”
“What’s making a thing too hot?” asked Penelope.
“Oh, making it so that you squirm and tingle and your heart goes pit-a-pat,” replied Nancy. “There! I’m not going to talk any more. If you won’t tell me why you came, I suppose you will come into the other room and have some dinner?”
“I won’t. I’m going home. As Paulie didn’t send you a message, are you going to make it hot for her?”
“That I am. Somebody will come here—somebody I know—to see somebody she knows; and there will be a begging and imploring, and somebody she knows will do nothing for somebody I know. Now, can you take that in?”
“You are very funny,” answered Penelope, “but I think I can. I’m glad, and I’m not glad, that I comed. I won’t stay to dinner; I’m going straight away home this blessed minute.”