Jack?"
At his voice she looked up--a sharp and graceful toss of her head.
"What?"
"The girl with the yellow hair."
"Then go ahead and see her. I won't keep you. You don't mind if I go
on sleeping? Sit down and be at home."
With this she calmly turned her back again and seemed thoroughly
disposed to carry out her word.
Red Pierre flushed a little, watching her, and he spoke his anger
outright: "You're acting like a sulky kid, Jack, not like a man."
It was a habit of his to forget that she was a woman. Without turning
her head she answered: "Do you want to know why?"
"You're like a cat showing your claws. Go on! Tell me what the reason
is."
"Because I get tired of you."
In all his life he had never been so scorned. He did not see the
covert grin of Wilbur in the background. He blurted: "Tired?"
"Awfully. You don't mind me being frank, do you, Pierre?"
He could only stammer: "Sometimes I wish to God you _were_ a man,
Jack!"
"You don't often remember that I'm a woman."
"Do you mean that I'm rude or rough with you, Jacqueline?" Still the
silence, but Wilbur was grinning broader than ever.
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