He was
in a panic.
"I'll do something desperate!" he cried.
"I warned you not to get excited." She laughed mockingly, and went
about washing the dishes. "Nobody wants you. I was just playing
with you. I am happier where I am."
But Messner did not believe. He remembered her facility in
changing front. She had changed front now. It was exploitation by
indirection. She was not happy with the other man. She had
discovered her mistake. The flame of his ego flared up at the
thought. She wanted to come back to him, which was the one thing
he did not want. Unwittingly, his hand rattled the door-latch.
"Don't run away," she laughed. "I won't bite you."
"I am not running away," he replied with child-like defiance, at
the same time pulling on his mittens. "I'm only going to get some
water."
He gathered the empty pails and cooking pots together and opened
the door. He looked back at her.
"Don't forget you're to tell Mr. - er - Haythorne who I am."
Messner broke the skin that had formed on the water-hole within the
hour, and filled his pails.
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