Then, with a
grim set of the lips, he walked softly into the closet and pulled the
door nearly shut.
He knew there was a chance that Josephine, if she were interested in his
movements, would go immediately into the sitting-room, where she could
see the path, and would know that he had not really left the house. But
she did not, evidently. She sat long enough in the dining-room for Ford
to call himself a name or two and to feel exceedingly foolish over the
trick, and to decide that it was a very childish one for a grown man to
play upon a woman. Then she pushed back her chair, came straight toward
his room, opened the door, and looked in; Ford knew, for he saw her
through the crack he had left in the closet doorway. She stood there
looking at the jug on the table, then went up and lifted it, much as
Ford had done, and pulled the cork with a certain angry defiance.
Perhaps, he guessed shrewdly, Josephine also felt rather foolish at what
she was doing--and he smiled over the thought.
Josephine turned the jug to the light, shut one eye into an adorable
squint, and peered in. Then she set the jug down and pushed the cork
slowly into place; and her face was puzzled.
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