"Oh, I know your kind!" he heard her spitting out at him. "You're a
cheap skate trying to put up a front! But you won't get by with me,
not if I know it!... You come through with three dollars or I'll wreck
this joint!"

A crash followed her harangue. Starratt turned. A tray of Haviland
cups and saucers lay in a shattered heap upon the floor.

He raised a threatening finger at her. "Will you be good enough to
leave this house!" he commanded.

She thrust a red-knuckled fist into his face. "Not much I won't!" she
defied him, swinging her head back and forth.

He fell back sharply. What was he to do? He couldn't kick her out...
He heard a chair scraped back noisily upon the hardwood floor of the
living room. Presently Hilmer stood at his side.

"Let me handle her!" Hilmer said, quietly.

Starratt gave a gesture of assent.

His guest took one stride toward the obstreperous female. "Get out!
Understand?"

She stopped the defiant seesawing of her head.

"Wot in hell..." she was beginning, but her voice suddenly broke into
tearful blubbering. "I'm a poor, lone widder woman--"