"Look here, Emma! If you're----"

"I certainly am. Nothing can stop me. The skirt business has
been--well, you know what it's been for the last two years. The
South American boats sail twice a month. Fat Ed Meyers' clothes
are promised for next week. That means he isn't sailing until
week after next. But the next boat sails in three days." She
picked up a piece of paper from her desk and tossed it into
Buck's hand. "That's the letter I was reading when you came in.
No; don't read it. Let me tell you instead."

Buck threw cane, hat, gloves, and letter on the broad desk,
thrust his hands into his pockets, and prepared for argument.
But he got only as far as: "But I won't allow it! You couldn't
get away in three days, at any rate. And at the end of two weeks
you'll have come to your senses, and besides----"

"T. A., I don't mean to be rude. But here are your hat and
stick and gloves. It's going to take me just forty-eight hours
to mobilize."

"But, Emma, even if you do get in ahead of Meyers, it's an
insane idea. A woman can't go down there alone. It isn't safe.
It's bad enough for a man to tackle it. Besides, we're holding
our own."

"That's just it. When a doctor issues a bulletin to the effect
that the patient is holding his own, you may have noticed that
the relatives always begin to gather."