“You will put on something and come down-stairs,” he said harshly.
“I will not.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “I've got to work, if you haven't. I've got to have my sleep.” Her tone rose, hysterically. “If you think you can stay out half the night, and guzzle beer, and then come here to get me up, you can think again.”
“You are already up,” he said, in a voice slowed and thickened by rage. “You will come down-stairs.”
He turned away and descended the creaking stairs again. She listened for the next move, but he made none. She knew then that he was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
She was half-maddened with terror by that time, and she ran to the window. But it was high. Even if she could have dropped out, and before she could put on enough clothing to escape in, he would be back again, his rage the greater for the delay. She slipped into a kimono, and her knees giving way under her she went down the stairs. Herman was waiting. He moved under the lamp, and she saw that he held the watch, dangling.
“Now!” he said. “Where you got this? Tell me.”
“I've told you how I got it.”
“That was a lie.”
So—Rudolph had told him!
“I like that!” she blustered, trying to gain time. “I guess it's time they gave me something—I've worked hard enough. They gave them to all the girls.”