“Don’t stall around so much,” he said. “Come on, let’s go to a show to-night, what do you say? You know you like me, Blanche, sure you do. You just wanted to see how often I’d ask you, that’s it.”
He accompanied his words by placing a hand upon one of her hips, and this time her endurance fled.
“I’m leaving to-night—you’ll have to find another cashier,” she said, coolly. “Try all of this stuff on some other girl and see how she likes it.”
He looked at her for a moment, with a heavy incredulity, and then broke into wrath—this girl thought she was better than he was, eh?
“You can’t leave too soon to suit me,” he said. “You act like you was Queen of Hoboken, ’r something like that! I’ll pay you off to-night, and good riddance!”
“’F I had your conceit I’d think I was a queen, all right,” she replied, as she went on punching the register.
“You give me a pain,” he retorted, as he walked away.
She looked after him with an immense relief. Thank the Lord, this was over at last.
As she walked to her home that night, she felt an emboldened mood, as though she had asserted herself for the first time in her life. When she broke the news to Mabel, who was sitting in the living-room, her sister was sympathetic.
“You’re a darn sight better off away from that place,” Mabel said. “Stop workin’ for a while an’ just step out, Blan. You’ve got a rest comin’ to you.”