“Yes, suh.”
“Where do you suppose that young woman is, Beany, to whom we issued a royal command? Suppose we go in search for her!” He started toward the office, but the door opened and Glen stood on the threshold. “Ah, here she is, now! A little slow, but——”
“I am not coming in answer to your order, Mr. Parker,” she said levelly. “I just——”
“But you came,” he said indulgently, “and that is, after all——”
“But I didn’t come—” she was white still, save for two dabs of furious color on her cheekbones and her eyes were almost black, but she fought hard for control.
“Oh, I get you! You just came to say that you’re not coming? You will recall, however, that you offered to show me and tell me and teach me, and suggested that we make a date for this evening? Any hour which you——”
“I came,” she cut into his persiflage, “because I had to tell you how I hate you and despise you——”
“Why, you didn’t have to tell me that,” he said in gentle surprise. “It seems very un——”
“—for what you are and what you do, and the life you live,” the words came swiftly with the beat of little hammers, “and because you are idle-born and overfed and underworked, and because——”
“Help!” cried young Mr. Peter Parker feebly, putting Henry Clay Bean on the floor, and staring at her like a bewildered child, hurt but stoutly conscious of rectitude. “It’s simply a case of mistaken identity, that’s all! You’ve got me confused with somebody else. Why, I’m one of the nicest fellows you ever knew in your life. Aren’t I, Gloriana-Virginia?”