Up jumped the girl and down
fell the hand. She seemed to hear herself excusing herself and
explaining her rashness to Sadie: "I couldn't stand it. I wouldn't! I
didn't care what happened."
"What's the matter?" he asked, blustering, his face now very red. He
kept his seat and looked up at her with a bullish stare.
"Nothing is the matter, Mr. Meggison," she said. "Only I think I've
troubled you long enough. You--will be wanting me to go."
As she spoke she gazed straight and steadily down into his eyes, as if
he were an animal that could be mastered if your look never let his
go. She remembered how Sadie had said that Meggison wanted to be a
"dog," but his bark might be stopped if you showed him in time that
you were not afraid. Winifred _was_ afraid, but she acted as if she
were not, which was the great thing. And the "stunt," as Sadie would
have called it, seemed to work--if only for the moment.
When his face had cooled, he said: "Yes, you can go, Miss Child. I've
nothing more to say to you--at present. Except this: it won't be the
Gloves."
* * * * *
Tingling, burning, whirling with the excitement of her
interview--fully felt only after it was over--Win started to hurry
back to work.
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