“But you don’t mean . . . you can’t mean . . . Auntie has turned me out.”
“So do I. That makes it unanimous,” she said, puffing mockingly her cigaret.
“But it was because of . . . you,” he stammered. “Have you forgotten . . . so soon.”
“I’ve a poor memory,” she said unconcernedly.
“But you don’t mean . . . you can’t mean . . . Oh, think of your promises. . . .”
“Bah,” said Valerie Keat.
“Have you no compassion?”
“Not a bit.”
“No honor?”
“Nope.”