. ’ ‘Is she now? And what would you be wanting of her, may I ask?’ ‘Because she knows something that may make this fool understand that I am the mistress of—’ She broke off. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. ” She shook her fist ceilingward. Take, if you please, your own pistol. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. “I suppose I should let go if I had.
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