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“I have come for an explanation,” she said. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. Run along now; but return in half an hour. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. Too much, perhaps. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. You must wait till supper's over. "I declare you throw me into an ague.
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