' You see, dearie, it's this way --"
"You'll have that dog out of your house and out of your
possession, inside of twenty-four hours," she decreed, the white
anger of a grave-eyed woman making her cold voice vibrate, "or
you will drop my acquaintance. That is final. And it's definite.
The engagement is over--until I hear that your dog is killed or
given away or sold. Good night!"
She left the room in vindictive haste. So overwhelmingly angry
was she that she closed the door softly behind her, instead of
slamming it. Through all his swirl of misery Link had sense
enough to note this final symptom and wonder bitterly at it.
On his way out of the house he was hailed by a highpitched baby
voice from somewhere above him. Olive had crawled out of bed, and
in her white flannel pajamas she was leaning over the upper
balustrade.
"Link!" she called down to the wretched man at the front door.
"When you and Dorcas gets married together, I'm comin' to live
wiv you! Then I can play wiv Chummie all I want to!"
Link bolted out to the street in the midst of her announcement.
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