"Good God!" he said. "Isn't mademoiselle Garin at home? I want to see mademoiselle—where is she?"
"My daughter is out. No; you will not take the bassinet, and you will not take the perambulator. You will take what you can carry in the hand, and that is all."
"The perambulator we must have," he insisted. "If you keep the bassinet, you must let us have the perambulator—the child's bedding and half its clothes are in it."
"Never!" she repeated, and hugged herself determinedly.
"You have had my acknowledgment of the debt, and then you repudiate the agreement," said Kent, trembling with passion. "It is very honest, such behaviour!"
"'Honest'?" she echoed. "Ha! ha! it was perhaps 'honest' that you came here with your wife, and your little one, and your nurse, to live in my house, and eat at my table, and did not pay me for it? You are a thief—you are a rogue and a thief!"
His fingers twitched to smash some man in the face.
"And the box?" he gasped, fighting for the ground inch by inch. "Do you allow that?"
"Never, never, never! Go and fetch your things down!"
He went up slowly with weak knees. Cynthia was standing in the middle of the room, pale and frightened. She had her hat on; the baby, dressed for the streets, was clasped in her arms.