"We're going to the Park!" Julia chanted.

"How d'ye mean you're going to the Park?" Emeline asked, as she slammed
down the offending window.

"Well, I thought maybe I'd take her there; kinder fun walking round and
seeing things, what?" George submitted.

Emeline shrugged. "I don't care what you do!"

She sat down before a dresser with a triple mirror, which had lately
been added to the bedroom furniture, and began to ruffle the coarse
puffs of her black hair with slim, ringed fingers.

"You've got something better to do, of course!" George said.

"Don't go to a matinee, Mother!" said Julia, coming to lean coaxingly
against her mother's arm. Emeline looked down at the pale, intelligent
little face, and gave the child a sudden kiss.

"Mama isn't going to a matinee, doll baby. But papa ain't as crazy for
her to go to the Park as you are!" she said, with an oblique and
challenging glance at George.

"Oh, come on!" George urged impatiently. "Only don't wear that rotten
hat," he added. "It don't look like a respectable woman!"

Emeline's expression did not change, but fury seethed within her.