And there's a bundle of old silk stockings!
They haven't any toes or heels much, but I suppose you can darn them.
And of course you can't afford to buy expensive silk stockings!"
One by one Gila had pulled the things out of the box, rattling on about
them as if she were selling corn-cure. She was a trifle excited, to be
sure, now that she was fairly launched on her philanthropic expedition;
also the fact that the two women in the room were absolutely silent and
gave no hint of how they were going to take this tide of insults was
somewhat disconcerting. However, Gila was not easily disconcerted. She
was very angry, and her anger had been growing in force all night. The
greatest insult that man could offer her had been heaped upon her by
Courtland, and there was no punishment too great to be meted out to the
unfortunate innocent who had been the occasion of it. Gila did not care
what she said, and she had no fear of any consequences whatever. There
had not, so far to her knowledge, lived the man who could not be called
back and humbled to her purpose after she had punished him sufficiently
for any offense he might knowingly or unknowingly have committed. That
she really had begun to admire Courtland, and to desire him in some
degree for her own, only added fuel to her fire. This girl whom he had
dared to pity should be burned and tortured; she should be insulted and
extinguished utterly, so that she would never dare to lift her head
again within recognizable distance of Paul Courtland, or she would know
the reason why.
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