Royall's voice.
"Why, out of their old library: straight out, and never set foot in
it again. They needn't think I'm going to wait round and let them say
they've discharged me!"
"Charity--Charity Royall, you listen----" he began, getting heavily out
of his chair; but she waved him aside, and walked out of the room.
Upstairs she took the library key from the place where she always hid it
under her pincushion--who said she wasn't careful?--put on her hat, and
swept down again and out into the street. If Mr. Royall heard her go
he made no motion to detain her: his sudden rages probably made him
understand the uselessness of reasoning with hers.
She reached the brick temple, unlocked the door and entered into the
glacial twilight. "I'm glad I'll never have to sit in this old vault
again when other folks are out in the sun!" she said aloud as the
familiar chill took her. She looked with abhorrence at the long dingy
rows of books, the sheep-nosed Minerva on her black pedestal, and the
mild-faced young man in a high stock whose effigy pined above her desk.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51