“You can’t get it here.”
“Will you turn us away?”
“Yes, I will.”
“All right, we will sit down on your stoop awhile and rest, and you will sell us a glass of milk.”
“I will sell you nothing, and you cannot sit down on my stoop. Be off with you.”
Murray sat down and Ike followed suit. The owner of the cottage rose to his feet, his face red with rage and his eyes blazing:
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, we heard you.”
“Go off.”
“We are comfortable here.”