Buck himself is one of the best riders in the whole
Kulanche."
The woman seemed to have some fiendish power to enrage me. As she
prattled thus, her eyes demurely on the glass she dried, I felt a deep
flush mantle my brow. She could never have dreamed that she had this
malign power, but she was now at least to suspect it.
"Your Mr. Edwards," I began calmly enough, "may be like the cinema
actor: the two may be as like each other as makes no difference--but
you are not going." I was aware that the latter phrase was heated
where I had merely meant it to be impressive. Dignified firmness had
been the line I intended, but my rage was mounting. She stared at me.
Astonished beyond words she was, if I can read human expressions.
"I am!" she snapped at last.
"You are not!" I repeated, stepping a bit toward her. I was conscious
of a bit of the rowdy in my manner, but I seemed powerless to prevent
it. All my culture was again but the flimsiest veneer.
"I am, too!" she again said, though plainly dismayed.
"No!" I quite thundered it, I dare say. "No, no! No, no!"
The nipper cried out from his box. Not until later did it occur to me
that he had considered himself to be addressed in angry tones.
"No, no!" I thundered again. I couldn't help myself, though silly rot
I call it now.
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