"It's my own house. Stand out o' the way, wench, or I'll make yo'!" He had shaken off Mary with violence; he looked ready to strike Margaret. But she never moved a feature--never took her deep, serious eyes off him. He stared back on her with gloomy fierceness. If she had stirred hand or foot, he would have thrust her aside with even more violence than he had used to his own daughter, whose face was bleeding from her fall against a chair.
"What are yo' looking at me in that way for?" asked he at last, daunted and awed by her severe calm. "If yo' think for to keep me from going what gait I choose, because she loved yo'--and in my own house, too, where I never asked yo' to come, yo're mista'en. It's very hard upon a man that he can't go to the only comfort left."

'It's my own house. Stand out o' the way, wench, or I'll make yo'!' He looked ready to strike her. But she never moved - never took her deep, serious eyes off him. He stared back fiercely. If she had stirred, he would have thrust her aside with even more violence than he had used on his daughter, whose face was bleeding from her fall.
'Why are yo' looking at me in that way?' asked he at last. 'If yo' think for to keep me from going where I choose - and in my own house, where I never asked yo' to come, yo're mistaken. It's very hard upon a man that he can't go to the only comfort left.'
