“A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. ” “Well,” Mrs. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. ’ Hilary stared at him. ” He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver. “Uh, can you get me a soda or something?” She said, shielding her exposed teeth with her hand. “My word holds,” she said. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
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