for all good men to come to the aid of the party."

Actually it was but the mechanical explosion of the performer's mood,
rather than the wording of a sentiment now or at any happier time
entertained by her.

At last she paused; she sullenly permitted herself to be interrupted. Her
hands still hovered above the already well-punished keys of the typewriter.
She glanced over a shoulder at Mr. Evans and allowed him to observe her
annoyance at the interruption.

"George has not come in yet," she said coldly. "I don't think he will ever
come in again. I don't see how he can have the face to. I shouldn't think
he could ever show himself on the street again after that--that--"

The young woman's emotion overcame her at this point. Again her relentless
fingers stung the blameless mechanism--"to come to the aid of the party.
Now is the time for all good--" She here controlled herself to further
speech. "And _you!_ Of course you applaud him for it. Oh, I knew you were
all alike!"

"Now look here, Betty, this thing has gone far enough----"

"Far enough, indeed!"

"But you won't give me a chance!"

Mr. Evans here bent above his employee in a threatening manner.

"You don't even ask what I think about it. You say I'm guilty and ought