"Yes, sir."
"I don't! and therefore, I'm a fool to tolerate the sight of you. I'm a fool—that's proved! You are spoiling your eyes and complexion, and losing the time you might be catching a husband—mewed up here. You expect to be paid when my will is read—that's knavery—hypocritical knavery. I haven't left you a red cent; you are a fool to think of it, and that's proved!"
Pitiful driveller! It was not insensibility, but compassion, that closed Ida's month, although she knew this was the revelation of the inner chamber of thought, now that the veil of custom and policy was rent in twain.
"What time is it?"
"Twelve o'clock, sir."
"That's a lie! it's three, at least! Bring the witch to me. It has stopped! Hold it to my ear—you've put it back! Lay it down by me! I don't trust you again!"
The hands pointed to one when Mrs. Read appeared.
"Well, madam!" the form of each tooth was seen through the thin lips, stretched over them like yellow parchment. "And where have you been traipsing?"
"I walked down the street."
"And on Main street, too, I'll swear! spending more money than you'd sell for at auction! Why don't you answer me? Your tongue was more glib when you were passing compliments with that fellow who walked with you."