“You saw her with Drinkwater?” said Tootles furiously, dropping his brushes in his excitement.
“Yesterday.”
“And she swore to me—” said Tootles, who began struggling out of his overalls in such indignation that the rest of the sentence was lost.
“No use—she’s out,” said Millie hastily, as Tootles bolted for the door.
“You saw her?” said Tootles wildly. “The little vixen, and I believed her, yes, believed her smiling, treacherous eyes!”
“Mr. Kidder, Mr. Kidder,” said Millie, now genuinely alarmed at the fury with which Tootles flung paints and paint-brushes on the floor and stamped on them, “you mustn’t take on like that!”
“That ends it—this is the end!” said Tootles, whose usually genial face was contorted with rage. “I wouldn’t believe her again if she swore on her mother’s grave.”
All at once, he gave a prolonged “Aha!” seized a knife, and rushed to the canvas. The girl in horror flung herself on him, crying to him not to destroy it.
“No; I won’t destroy it, but I’ll destroy her!” said Tootles wildly. “Let me go!”
“What are you going to do?” said Millie, still clinging to his arm.