“I give that to your mother too. You don’t need it, and it may be useful to me. What else have you got?”
She struggled to her feet. He was growing more dangerous than she had ever known him to be even when he had beaten her.
“I ain’t got nothin’ else.”
“Oh, yes, you have. You gotta purse. I seen you with it. Where is it?”
The fear in her eyes sent his toward her jacket, thrown on the chair when she had come in. With an “Ah!” of satisfaction he pounced on it. As he held it upside down and shook it, a little leather wallet clattered to the floor. She sprang for it, but again he was too quick for her.
“So!” he snarled, with his glittering grin. “You thought you’d get it, did you?” He rattled the few coins, copper and silver, into the palm of his hand, and unfolded a one-dollar bill. “You must owe me this money. Who’s give you bed and board for the last ten year, I’d like to know? How much have you ever paid me?”
“Only all I ever earned—which you stole from me.”
“Stole from you, did I? Well, you won’t fling that in my face any more.” He handed her her coat. “Put that on,” he commanded.
“What for?” She held it without obeying the order. “What’s the good o’ goin’ out and me without a cent?”