He mounted without reply. As he had expected Daniel Culser
was present, and rose to greet him negligently, from a lounging attitude
on the sofa. His coat, cut back to the knees, was relentlessly tapered,
the collar enormously rolled and revered, and a white Marseilles
waistcoat bore black spots as large as a Bolivian half dollar; while a
black scarf, it was called the Du Casses, fell in an avalanche of
ruffles. He moved toward the door, fitting his coat carefully about his
slim waist, "I'm away, Essie," he proclaimed.
"When will you come again, Daniel?" she asked with an oppressive
humility. She gazed at Jasper Penny with a momentary delay; then, with
an utter disregard of his presence, laid her hands on the younger man's
shoulders. "Soon," she begged. Obviously ill at ease he abruptly
released himself. "I don't care," she cried defiantly; "I'll tell the
whole world you are the sweetest man in it. Jasper's nothing to me nor I
to him. And I'm not afraid of him, of what he might threaten, either.
Stay, Daniel, and you'll see. I will look out for us, Dan."
Her unexpected frankness was inevitably followed by an awkward silence.
Daniel Culser finally cursed below his breath, avoiding Jasper's cold
inquiring gaze. "I'm glad I said it," Essie proceeded; "now he knows how
things are.
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