the struggling bodies. Carron heard squeaks and whimpers of a puppy in high excitement, and then a whimper of quite a different origin.
"Ugh! you little beast! You would, would you!" Between set teeth, "Just the same, I'm going to—there!" The last word was pitched to virtue triumphant; but the puppy's indignant yelp was higher yet, the resentment of frustrated will.
The jar of a door opening farther down the hall was audible, and a second voice, raised to cover the distance, suppressed with the fear of being overheard and thus giving a double carrying quality, reached him as distinctly as if it had been spoken through the keyhole. "Blanche, what in the world are you doing there?"
The reply came clear and cheerful. "Taking something away from Beetles. I was afraid he would eat it."
"Well, get up this moment, and come away." Carron felt himself pierced by the stage whisper. "Don't you know that man is in that room!"
There was a rustle and a hasty scrambling up, as if the door had suddenly become contaminated. At the same time a hurrying step approached down the hall. The two petticoated sounds merged almost in front of his door, and he found himself a not unwilling listener to the duet that followed.
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