"I expect if he wants to leave, Malvina, you'd better let him," he suggested.
"What's bitin' you?" said Malvina, not even turning her eyes in her husband's direction.
Texas could not forbear landing one little dig, one little barb of discomfort, in Noggle's perfumed hide.
"Even your husband is afraid to be seen on the street with me any more," said he.
Malvina turned to Noggle now with fire in her eyes.
"Oh, he is, is he?"
"If it would hurt his business, ma'am, what might my stoppin' here in the ho—tel do to yours?"
Malvina took her arms down from the showcase, and came round from behind the counter. The color was gone out of her face, and her eyes were very bright.
"Mr. Hartwell, maybe there are some people in the world little enough to put business above gratitude," said she, never turning an eye toward her wilted, shifting husband; "but I'm not one of that kind."
She faced Noggle, burning him with a look that made him squirm.
"Maybe you're afraid to be seen on the street with Mr. Hartwell, but I ain't! I ain't afraid to be seen anywhere with him; I'd go to—"
