“What ’ave I been sayin’?” he asked, looking piteously at his wife.
“Why!” said Ethel, “you’ve been carrying on something awful, saying, ‘Kill her, kill her!’”
“Have I, Lucy?” he faltered.
“You didn’t know what you was saying,” said his young wife gently but coldly.
His face puckered up. He bit his lip, then broke into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, with his face to the window.
There was no sound in the room but of three people crying bitterly, breath caught in sobs. Suddenly Lucy put away her tears and went over to him.
“You didn’t know what you was sayin’, Willy, I know you didn’t. I knew you didn’t, all the time. It doesn’t matter, Willy. Only don’t do it again.”
In a little while, when they were calmer, she went downstairs with Ethel.
“See if anybody is looking in the street,” she said.
Ethel went into the parlour and peeped through the curtains.