"How dare you laugh at me. I hate you!" Judith's voice came hoarse and unrecognizable.
A hand caught blindly at the reins; another hand closed over it. Then there was silence again in the buggy, broken by panting sounds and little sobs. At the end of it Judith, forced back into her corner and held there, was really crying now, with hysterical sobs that hurt, and hot tears that hurt, too.
"Let me go," she panted. "I hate you! You've got to let me go."
"What for?"
"I'm going home. I'm going to get out and walk home."
"Ten miles?"
"I'd walk a hundred miles to get away from you."
"You'd have to walk farther to do that." The dry little laugh cut through the dark again, and Judith struck furiously at the arm that held her.
"I hate you!" she sobbed.
"No."