What a hang-dog face he's got on him! And he's a coward, too, or he wouldn't have slunk out when I ordered him.

And he had it on him all the time! I wonder what he'll do with it.

Hold it over her, I expect; maybe take it to Rosenthal's with some lie about her, so they will discharge her and she come back to him.
"Maybe--" Here she stopped, and grew suddenly grave.

"Maybe he'll--No, I don't think he'd dare do that, but I've got to get Stephen, and I'll go for him this minute.

Going's quicker than a letter, and I'll leave word down-stairs where I'm gone, so she'll know when she comes in, and I'll fix her coffee so she can get it." Hurrying into her own room, she began changing her dress, putting on her shoes, taking her night cloak and big, flare bonnet from the hook behind the door, talking to herself as she moved.
"It's getting worse all the time, instead of getting better.