"Go on, please," he commanded.
The girl had now reached the climax of her story, but the eyes of Mrs. Earle betrayed the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere. With an intense and hungry longing, they were concentrated upon her own waste-paper basket.
The voice of the girl in anger and defiance recalled Mrs. Earle to the business of the moment.
"He tried to kill me," shouted Miss Rose. "And his shooting himself in the shoulder was a bluff. That's my story; that's the story I'm going to tell the judge"—her voice soared shrilly—"that's the story that's going to send your brother-in-law to Sing Sing!"
For the first time Mrs. Earle contributed to the general conversation.
"You talk like a fish," she said.
The girl turned upon her savagely.
"If he don't like the way I talk," she cried, "he can come across!"
Mrs. Earle exclaimed in horror. Virtuously her hands were raised in protest.
"Like hell he will!" she said. "You can't pull that under my roof!"