Still humming, she went into the bedroom, undressed, and got into bed, in a waking nightmare, half hypnotizing herself with her monotonous little song. She was too far gone even to feel relieved when at last she heard Angelica’s footsteps in the hall, heard her go into the kitchen and light the gas. Then silence. She lay listening for the baby’s cry; there wasn’t a sound.
"What can she be doing in there?" she thought. "And what makes the baby so quiet?"
Fear struggled against the lethargy that engulfed her. She got up, went to the kitchen, and stood in the doorway in her long, old-fashioned nightgown, regarding her child. Angelica sat beside the table, with a small box in her lap.
"Angie! Where’s the baby?" cried her mother.
"Gone," said Angelica. "I got a lady to take him."
"Your own child?" screamed her mother. "Your own little baby? Oh, shame on you!"
"Shut up! You don’t understand. Do you think I liked to give him away?"
"Then get him back! Get him back, Angie! I’ll work for him till I drop. Don’t give him up!"
"He’s gone, I tell you. Let me alone! Can’t you see how I feel?"
"Then why, why, why did you do it, Angie?"