LUCY BELLE
Yas, he is! De minute he git out! Yo’ don’ know Sam like I does. I got ter stick ter him—no matter weder he in jail or not. Gimme a chanct, Chick. Please—! Yo’ mah bes’ frien’—nex’ ter Sam. Gimme a chanct ter keep mah promise ter him! Don’ do nuffin’ dat gwine ter make him come back an’ kill yo’! (His muscles relax, as though her appeal had moved him somewhat.) Don’—don’ come at me like dat, Chick, ole boy—
(He gives a little, hollow laugh, reaches in his pocket, brings out a package of Sweet Corporals, puts one in his mouth and lights it. Lucy Belle runs a hand over her hair, which is all dishevelled, then glances down at her waist.)
LUCY BELLE
Don’ make a wreck ob me.
(She moves hesitatingly to the door, Left, and pauses for a moment when she reaches there. He watches her with a narrow, tense gaze.)
LUCY BELLE
’Scuse me a minute.
(She goes out, Left. Chick leans back against the table and smokes in sullen, contemplative silence. Presently a knock sounds on the door, Back. Chick turns his head and listens. The knock sounds again. He goes nonchalantly to the door and opens it. Aunt Rebecca stands in the doorway.)
AUNT REBECCA (exclaiming)