"Here's a pretty kettle of fish! The brute! If I hadn't clean forgotten all about it! Whatever shall I say?"
He came farther into the room.
"I hope you've received my little present, Miss Emmett, and that you like it."
She angrily confronted him.
"My name's not Emmett, so don't you think it."
"Not Emmett!" He winked. "Of course not. Still, as it's been good enough for me to find you with, it's near enough, for me. If it comes to that, my name's not Smith."
"I don't care what your name is, and the sooner you get out of this the better it'll be for you."
"Don't be cross, my dear. I only want you and I to understand each other."
"I don't want any of your understandings. I don't want to have anything to say to you. My friend's just stepped out; if he comes back and finds you here he'll throw you down the stairs quicker than you came up them."
"Your friend?" An ugly look came into the young man's eyes. "So you've got a friend."