'Am I?' Nella replied, as firmly as she could, though her hand
shook violently with excitement, could Miss Spencer but have
observed it. 'Am I? You said just now that I might be a Yankee
girl, but I was a fool. Well, I am a Yankee girl, as you call it; and
in my country, if they don't teach revolver-shooting in
boarding-schools, there are at least a lot of girls who can handle a
revolver. I happen to be one of them. I tell you that if you ring that
bell you will suffer.'
Most of this was simple bluff on Nella's part, and she trembled lest
Miss Spencer should perceive that it was simple bluff. Happily for
her, Miss Spencer belonged to that order of women who have
every sort of courage except physical courage. Miss Spencer could
have withstood successfully any moral trial, but persuade her that
her skin was in danger, and she would succumb. Nella at once
divined this useful fact, and proceeded accordingly, hiding the
strangeness of her own sensations as well as she could.
'You had better sit down now,' said Nella, 'and I will ask you a few
questions.'
And Miss Spencer obediently sat down, rather white, and trying to
screw her lips into a formal smile.
'Why did you leave the Grand Babylon that night?' Nella began her
examination, putting on a stern, barrister-like expression.
'I had orders to, Miss Racksole.'
'Whose orders?'
'Well, I'm - I'm - the fact is, I'm a married woman, and it was my
husband's orders.
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