She got up now and stood there as straight as though she was cut out of marble, and her silk dress hung round her legs, and she was still wringing her hands, and her eyes was wide open. But she wasn't crying.
"I didn't know," says she. "I never knew it would be this way. I didn't know."
"You didn't know what, Honey?" says I. "There's heaps of things we all don't know. But is there anything your old friend Curly can do for you now? Listen, sis, I've got you mighty much to heart," says I. "Tell old Curly, can't you, what's gone wrong? Your pa he's just gone to bed. Shall I go and get him?"
"No, no, no! For Gawd's sake, no! I can't see him—I could never tell him."
"It's got to be told," says I.
Then she nodded up and down, fastlike, and didn't say anything.
"It ain't really any of my business," says I, "but have you and him—— Well now——"
"You men——" She broke down. "You men—what do you know about a girl? What have you men done to me?"
"We done all in God Almighty's world we knew how to do for you," says I. "We'd of done more for you if we'd knowed how."
"Ah, is it so! You've made me the most unhappy girl in all the world."