He grunted, and his grip gave. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. . “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. There were two. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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