’Pretty−daughter−sitting−on−father’s−knee−makes−it−hard−for−mother’ complex. Not this mother, it doesn’t.”
Benny took off his hat and threw it across the room. He was mad. “What the hell’s come over you?” he demanded, his voice rising.
Sadie went over and sat on the sofa. “I’m sick of the way you look at women. I’ve stood as much of it as I’m going to stand. Every woman who walks past you, you must look at. You’re not content with just looking.
You must tell me. All right, if you want every dame in the street, go and have her, but I shan’t be around.”
Benny rubbed his nose. “So that’s it, is it?” he said, suddenly very quiet. “You’re jealous, that’s what you are. Listen, I haven’t put my hands on one single dame since I married you. Why shouldn’t I look at ’em?
What’s the harm in it, anyway? I’m not doin’ anythin’ wrong, just looking, am I?”
“That’s the way you look at it. I can’t do a thing about it. So I’ve got to walk along the street with you and watch you gape at every girl for the rest of my life, have I?”
Benny sat in a chair opposite her. With a great effort he tried to control his patience. In a patronizing tone he said: “Now, don’t be screwy, honey. This is just crazy talk. You’re feeling low. Tomorrow, we’ll laugh about this. Get all these ideas out of your head and you’ll have everything.”
“No, I won’t.”
“You’ll have everything.”