Even if there were other people somewhere nearby and willing to get involved, which she didn't doubt the former but was skeptical of the latter, Mabelle's desire to leave wasn't strong enough for her to scream or even struggle. Passively allowing herself to be dragged back to the room, although not being particularly helpful with her bare feet more sliding against the floor than walking, Mabelle realized she probably wasn't going to get too far outside dressed as she was without either her coat or her shoes anyway. If it was cold during the day, it was even worse during the evenings, and it was a long walk home in the icy slush that was beginning to form earlier that evening. There were far more exciting ways to lose toes.
While she didn't actually doubt his intentions to paint, as he clearly brought supplies to do so, Mabelle was intrigued enough by the fact he actually wanted her there. "You don't think I'm a good painter," she stated as simple fact, no hurt in her voice although her eyebrows drew together in confusion. She wasn't looking for him to deny it, just not understanding why he thought her helping wasn't more a waste of his time than her leaving.