“Teach ’em a lesson, I would,” Almerting was saying to Theresa as they strolled on. “We’ll walk around a while an’ make ’em think yuh mean business. They won’t lock yuh out any more. If they don’t let yuh in when we come back I’ll find yuh a place, all right.”
His sharp eyes were gleaming as he looked around into her own. Already he had made up his mind that she should not go back if he could help it. He knew a better place than home for this night, anyhow—the club room of the Roosters, if nowhere else. They could stay there for a time, anyhow.
By now old Rogaum, who had seen her walking up the street alone, was marveling at her audacity, but thought she would soon come back. It was amazing that she should exhibit such temerity, but he would teach her! Such a whipping! At half-past ten, however, he stuck his head out of the open window and saw nothing of her. At eleven, the same. Then he walked the floor.
At first wrathful, then nervous, then nervous and wrathful, he finally ended all nervous, without a scintilla of wrath. His stout wife sat up in bed and began to wring her hands.
“Lie down!” he commanded. “You make me sick. I know vot I am doing!”
“Is she still at der door?” pleaded the mother.
“No,” he said. “I don’t tink so. She should come ven I call.”
His nerves were weakening, however, and now they finally collapsed.
“She vent de stread up,” he said anxiously after a time. “I vill go after.”
Slipping on his coat, he went down the stairs and out into the night. It was growing late, and the stillness and gloom of midnight were nearing. Nowhere in sight was his Theresa. First one way and then another he went, looking here, there, everywhere, finally groaning.