page_324 < previous page page_324 next page > Page 324 tlements, but he wanted to know if Lizzie was going to do something about the inn, or if he'd be spending the rest of his life drawing ale and serving boiled mutton. Oliver scowled at John, argued with Bess, and assured Lizzie, over and over again, that she could do better than this spineless, lily-livered dog of a colonial. For her part, Lizzie kept insisting that she wasn't sure she wanted to get married, didn't know whether she wanted to sell the inn if she did, and wasn't about to discuss the matter under these circumstances, in any case. It was so much wasted breath. No one was listening to her. And two of the three were ghosts, for heaven's sake! Ghosts who had rashly chosen a course that had left her orphaned before she was even out of her cradle. Lizzie was surprised she wasn't angrier, surprised she hadn't challenged them with all the questions she'd always wanted to ask, all the accusations she'd wanted to fling at them. Instead, here she was, arguing with them just as if they still had a say in her life! She got to her feet. "If the rest of you want to keep arguing," she said firmly, "that's fine with me. But I have work to do and I am leaving." Bess looked up, startled by her sudden vehemence. "I suppose you must," she said with a small, regretful sigh. "Now see what you've done!" Oliver said, glaring at John. "You wouldn't run away without me, would  < previous page page_324 next page >