Page:Steadfast Heart.djvu/178

 “You were mad at me this morning,” he said, using the boyish formula. She made no reply, cruelly leaving him to flounder in his own difficulty. “I don’t see why we should quarrel about that—”

She stamped her foot. “Malcolm Crane,” she said passionately, “Angus Burke is right here on this porch, and you don’t dare finish what you were going to say…. You can sneak behind folks’ backs…. I told you this morning you were afraid to say those things to him.”

Young Crane stepped back a pace, peering into the darkness, and words were startled from him, words of real surprise, almost of horror. “You don’t mean to say you—you actually sit on the porch with him! Why, Lydia—he’s a—a—”

“I’d rather have him than you,” Lydia interrupted furiously. “I can sit on my porch with who I please, and it isn’t any of your business, nor anybody else’s business—not if I want to sit and talk with the garbage man!”

Crane plucked up his courage and made an effort to save his face. “Huh…. You that’s done so much talking about family and ancestors,” he sneered. “But you don’t live up to it… I don’t care about staying around where you’re—entertaining an ex-convict.”

Then Angus spoke, for the first time; he spoke