Before she finished, the woman exclaimed at the cold wind sweeping through the hall, and went into the room; but Zeb remained, watching and shivering, though she had on all the clothes she had worn through the day.
“Zeb,” exclaimed Stargarde passionately, looking up at her, “how can I leave you here? I shall not sleep to-night for thinking of you.”
The child shrugged her shoulders, but said nothing.
“Will you not come with me, darling?” said Stargarde. “I think your mother would give you up.”
“Yer’ll marry that——” Zeb scorned to bestow a name upon him; “then where’ll I find myself?”
“My present plan is to live always in the Pavilion,” said Stargarde firmly; “and Zeb, I want you with me.”
Zeb relented a little. “I’ll see yer to-morrer,” she observed at length. “I’m tired o’ this kind o’ thing,” pointing contemptuously at the prostrate man.
“And Zeb,” continued Stargarde, as the girl showed signs of leaving her, “do open a window in there; the air is stifling.”
Zeb chuckled. “So I does, every night. In an hour them,” with a jerk of her finger over her shoulder, “will be sound off. Then I jumps up and opens both winders, ’cause I likes fresh air. Goodnight to ye,” and with a farewell glance at Stargarde she slammed the crazy door behind her and went into the room.