No, I walk on simple shoe leather and eat mere victuals.—Just the same, it wasn't square of you to clear out that way—vanish into air without a word or a sign.
Rhoda.
Looking at him steadily.
You know very well why I went.
Littlefield.
Returning her gaze, unabashed, chants with meaning and relish.
"Hey diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon."
Rhoda takes up the basket and goes toward the outer door. He intercepts her.
Rhoda.
Let me pass.