"Bosh! He read me an act of one of his plays, long-winded talk and nothing to do, too much poetry, and not enough—not enough bigness for me. I want something to move about with in a play. Besides, he won't risk any money even on his own stuff; too platonic for that—platonics are always economical. Ta-ta."
"Have a whiskey and soda?"
"No, thank you," and she, too, disappeared down the dirty staircase that Margaret had taken a few minutes before.
XXIII
It was five o'clock when Margaret knocked at the street door in Great College Street again.
"There's a lady waiting for you," Mrs. Gilman said, as she let her in.
"A lady!" Margaret exclaimed, and hurried up-stairs. In the drawing-room sat Hannah. She wore her blue alpaca frock and black straw hat with the upstanding bow on one side; she had thrown aside her cape, and the moment she saw Margaret she took off her hat as if to prepare herself for the fray.
"Well," she said, "this is a pretty thing to do, isn't it? You'll just come home with me this very moment."