"Pray speak quietly," he implored. "Look, there's the perambulator over there; and there are the box and bassinet! Of course they must go on the roof of a cab, we can't put them inside." "Zut!" she answered; "I do not permit you to take such things. I will watch what you take. Fetch your things down!" "Do you mean to say," muttered Kent with dry lips, "that at the last moment you refuse to let us take the child's bassinet?" "I never consented to it. You lie!" "Good God!" he said. "Isn't mademoiselle Garin at home? I want to see mademoiselle--where is she?" "My daughter is out. No; you will not take the bassinet, and you will not take the perambulator. You will take what you can carry in the hand, and that is all." "The perambulator we _must_ have," he insisted. "If you keep the bassinet, you must let us have the perambulator--the child's bedding and half its clothes are in it." "Never!" she repeated, and hugged herself determinedly. "You have had my acknowledgment of the debt, and then you repudiate the agreement," said Kent, trembling with passion. "It is very honest, such behaviour!" "'Honest'?" she echoed. "Ha! ha! it was perhaps 'honest' that you came here with your wife, and your little one, and your nurse, to live in my house, and eat at my table, and did not pay me for it? You are a thief--you are a rogue and a thief!" His fingers twitched to smash some man in the face. "And the box?" he gasped, fighting for the ground inch by inch. "Do you allow _that_?" "Never, never, never! Go and fetch your things down!" He went up slowly with weak knees. Cynthia was standing in the middle of the room, pale and frightened. She had her hat on; the baby, dressed for the streets, was clasped in her arms. "She won't let the luggage go," said Kent hoarsely. "God knows what's come to her--_I_ don't! Perhaps she thinks we were trying to get out more than was arranged; she swears now that she promised nothing. Come on; it's no good waiting. There's a cab at the door, let's go!" "But--but what shall we do?" faltered the girl. "Humphrey, Baby _must_ have his things; it's impossible to do without them! Oh, this is awful!" "Awful or not, we must put up with it. For Heaven's sake, let's get out of the damned place as fast as we can! Where were the most important things put?" "I don't know--they are everywhere," she declared tremulously. "I want the basket when we get in; but afterwards I want the box, and the bedding--I want everything of Baby's. She must be a perfect wretch!"