“Go on and write and get through. I can’t stew on these steps all day.”
“I thought you were an amiable Child.”
“I’m not amiable and I’m not a Child.”
“Don’t spoil your pretty face with frowns.”
“It’s my face. And you can’t see it anyhow,” I replied, venting in femanine fashion, my anger at Jane on the nearest object.
“Look here,” he said, through the door, “you’ve been my good Angel. I’m doing more work than I’ve done in two months, although it was a dirty, low-down way to make me do it. You’re not going back on me now, are you?”
Well, I was mollafied, as who would not be? So I said:
“Well?”
“What did Patten do with my clothes?”
“He took them with him.”