''Well, that''s like you,'' says the man complacently.◎思◎兔◎在◎線◎閱◎讀◎
He has taken out a pipe, and lights it. The boy puts his hands to the slit in the leather. I watch him do it and, though my cheek is still burning from the heat of the fire, I grow cold. The cutting of the bag has shocked me, more than I can say. I begin to tremble.
''Please,'' I say. ''Please give me back my things. I shall not trouble about the policeman, if you will only give back what is mine, and let me go.''
I suppose my voice has some new, piteous note to it; for now they all turn their heads and study me, and the woman comes close again and again strokes my hair.
''Not frightened, still?'' she says amazedly. ''Not frightened, of John Vroom? Why, he is just being playful.—John, how dare you? Put your knife away and pass me Miss Lilly''s bag.—There. Are you sorry for it, dear? Why, it''s a creased old thing, that looks like it ain''t been used in fifty years. We shall get you a proper one. Shan''t we, though!''
The boy makes a show of grumbling but gives up the bag; and when the woman hands it to me I take it and hug it. There are tears, rising in my throat.
''Boo-hoo,'' says the boy in disgust, when he sees me swallow. He leans and leers at me again. ''