You're not married yourself,
and you don't want other people to be. How do you suppose the world
would get on if everybody was like you?"
Captain Bowers regarded her in open-eyed perplexity. The door leading to
the garden had just closed behind the valiant Joseph, and he stared with
growing uneasiness at the slight figure of Miss Vickers as it stood
poised for further oratorical efforts. Before he could speak she gave
her lips a rapid lick and started again.
"You're one of those people that don't like to see others happy, that's
what you are," she said, rapidly. "I wasn't hurting your kitchen, and as
to talking and laughing there--what do you think my tongue was given to
me for? Show? P'r'aps if you'd been doing a day's hard work you'd--"
"Look here, my girl--" began the captain, desperately.
"Don't you my girl me, please," interrupted Miss Vickers. "I'm not your
girl, thank goodness. If I was you'd be a bit different, I can tell you.
If you had any girls you'd know better than to try and come between them
and their young men. Besides, they wouldn't let you. When a girl's got
a young man--"
The captain rose and went through the form of ringing the bell.
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