"Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. “Never mind me. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. Then she reverted to the trousers.
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