Сестра Керри

Chapter XXII. The Blaze Of The Tinder: Flesh Wars With The Flesh

           “WhowereyoudrivingwithonWashingtonBoulevard?WhowereyouwithatthetheatrewhenGeorgesawyou?DoyouthinkI’mafooltobedupedbyyou?DoyouthinkI’llsitathomehereandtakeyour‘toobusys’and‘can’tcome,’whileyouparadearoundandmakeoutthatI’munabletocome?IwantyoutoknowthatlordlyairshavecometoanendsofarasIamconcerned.Youcan’tdictatetomenormychildren.I’mthroughwithyouentirely.”

           “It’salie,”hesaid,driventoacornerandknowingnootherexcuse.

           “Lie,eh!”shesaid,fiercely,butwithreturningreserve;“youmaycallitalieifyouwantto,butIknow.”

           “It’salie,Itellyou,”hesaid,inalow,sharpvoice.“You’vebeensearchingaroundforsomecheapaccusationformonthsandnowyouthinkyouhaveit.Youthinkyou’llspringsomethingandgettheupperhand.Well,Itellyou,youcan’t.AslongasI’minthishouseI’mmasterofit,andyouoranyoneelsewon’tdictatetome—doyouhear?”

           Hecrepttowardherwithalightinhiseyethatwasominous.Somethinginthewoman’scool,cynical,upper-handishmanner,asifshewerealreadymaster,causedhimtofeelforthemomentasifhecouldstrangleher.

           Shegazedathim—apythonessinhumour.

           “I’mnotdictatingtoyou,”shereturned;“I’mtellingyouwhatIwant.”

           Theanswerwassocool,sorichinbravado,thatsomehowittookthewindoutofhissails.Hecouldnotattackher,hecouldnotaskherforproofs

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