She made an effort to collect herself. "But I am grateful," she asserted. "Please don't think I mean to be rude. Only," she gulped again, overcome by the stinging memory of that woman's insolence, "I'd almost as lief you hadn't stopped me--and that wall wasn't there!"
"Now, now!" he reminded her. "It can't be as bad as all that, you know."
"Well, but think how you would feel if you'd been twice accused of stealing Mrs. Gosnold's jewels last night!"
"Once would be plenty," he said gravely. "I don't reckon anybody would say that twice to my bare face."
"Yes--but you can resent insults like a man."
"That's right, too. But then it's the only way I know to resent 'em--with my fists. That's where you women put it all over us men; you know a hundred different ways of sinking the poisoned barb subtly. I wouldn't like to be that Pride critter when you get through with her."
There was unquestionably a certain amount of comfort to be gained by viewing the case from this angle. Sally became calmer and brightened perceptibly.
"Perhaps," she murmured in an enigmatic manner becoming in the putative mistress of unutterable arts.
"It's just like that shrivelled old shrew. What you might expect. If I had thought of it in time, I'd've been willing to make a book on her laying it to you."
"But why?" Sally protested perplexedly.