“Yes, you have!” she sobbed. “Till I die.”
“Yes; that's what you been after all the time I was getting well.”
“Yes, I have, and I'll keep on till I die!”
“A fine wife for a man,” he said. “Beggin' a man to be a dirty dog!”
“No! To be a MAN—and I'll keep on till I die!”
Adams again fell back upon his last solace: he walked, half staggering, up and down the room, swearing in a rhythmic repetition.
His wife had repetitions of her own, and she kept at them in a voice that rose to a higher and higher pitch, like the sound of an old well-pump. “Till I die! Till I die! Till I DIE!”
She ended in a scream; and Alice, coming up the stairs, thanked heaven that Russell had gone. She ran to her father's door and went in.
Adams looked at her, and gesticulated shakily at the convulsive figure on the floor. “Can you get her out of here?”
Alice helped Mrs. Adams to her feet; and the stricken woman threw her arms passionately about her daughter.