"Answer me!"
She started up and faced him, her face convulsed with rage.
"What do you want me to say? Yes, you are rude--I hate you and your
lot. Go away from me; I don't want you; I hate you all."
And she would have said more, but furious sobs swelled her throat and
she could not speak, but dropped, face down, on the bunk and gripped
the blankets in each hardset hand. Over her Pierre leaned, utterly
bewildered, found nothing that he could say, and then turned and
strode, frowning, from the room. Wilbur hastened after him and caught
him just as the door was closing.
"Come back," he pleaded. "This is the best game I've ever seen. Come
back, Pierre! You've made a wonderful start."
Pierre le Rouge shook off the detaining hand and glared up at Wilbur.
"Don't try irony, Dick. I feel like murder. Think of it! All this time
she's been hating me; and now it's making her weep; think of
it--Jack--weeping!"
"Why, you're a child, Pierre. She's in love with you."
"With me?"
"With Red Pierre."
"You can't make a joke out of Jack with me.
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