"Then you shall have it."
"Thank you. Will you be so good as to let me have it at your earliest convenience?"
He turned to leave the room. She stopped him.
"Understand, Frank, that if you don't withdraw what you have said before you leave the room, I shall take your words literally, and act upon them to the letter."
"I understand that perfectly."
"I shall go."
"Then go! I do beg, my dear wife, that you won't stand upon the order of your going. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so that it's just the time for a little excursion. I hope you'll have a happy Christmas."
"I hope that your Christmas will be happier than mine is likely to be."
"That is very good of you, I'm sure." He flared into sudden passion. "How fond you are of striking an attitude--your life is one continued pose. Do you suppose that I think you will go? Do you imagine that I don't know you better. You'll talk, talk, talk! and you'll pose, pose, pose! but you're as likely to go as I should be likely to fetch you back if you did go--unluckily for me!"
He was gone, laughing as he went. His laughter was the final straw. That was what he thought of her! He set her down as simply a humbug; a windbag; a spouter of big words, which were all sound and had no meaning. She might threaten to go; he knew that her threats were but phrases. And he had laughed at her! Very good, he should see! He should learn if she was a person to be laughed at! She might have forgiven him much--everything--but his contempt. He would discover, quickly, if she was a doll, a puppet, an automaton, who could be made to gabble anything by pulling a string.