"That machine sent you!" she said. "The minute I got a spark you started----"
"Do you think I'm a motor? Spark! Do you think I----"
"Yes, I do. You couldn't help it; I know it was my own fault, and this-- this is the dreadful punishment--g-glued to a t-table top--with a man named George----"
"What!!!"
"Yes," she said passionately, "everything disobedient I have done has brought lightning retribution. I was forbidden to go into the laboratory; I disobeyed and--you came to hang wall paper! I--I took a b-book--which I had no business to take, and F-fate glues me to your horrid table and holds me fast till a man named George comes in...."
Flushed, trembling, excited, she made a quick and dramatic gesture of despair; and a ripping sound rent the silence.
"Are you pasted to that table?" faltered the young man, aghast.
"Yes, I am. And it's utterly impossible for you to aid me in the slightest, except by pretending to ignore it."
"But you--you can't remain there!"
"I can't help remaining here," she said hotly, "until you go."