tone; and now she lowered her dark eyelids provokingly.
This provokement was not pointed at Pete; nor at me; nor at Boggs, whom I had identified as her especial adorer. He was this; but I realized, during the next few seconds, that she was utterly indifferent to his admiration. Bane, she played for; Bane, she sought to provoke; and at this, she instantly succeeded.
"You're served, Sally," he spoke to her in a warning, steel-like tone. He was so angry, I perceived, that he could devise no better interjection than to call attention to the cup placed before her.
Sally slowly and languorously opened her eyes to more than their natural wideness and gazed at him.
"I don't care for cold consomme," she cast at him; and Pete re-inforced her in her defiance.
"Fave there been many more?" he asked her.
"More?" For the moment, she had to think about Bane; she'd forgotten what she had just started, until Pete reminded her.
