Will yo’—?
LUCY BELLE
Yas, yas. Stop—please—! Lemme up—lemme up—Slim—
(He slowly turns her wrist back to normal and relaxing his grip somewhat allows her to rise. She stands limp and dazed for several moments, as though endeavoring to pull herself together. She draws her free hand slowly across her forehead.)
SLIM (with savage impatience)
Come on!
(He tightens his hold somewhat. She gives a little cry of pain, and her knees give. With Slim still gripping her wrist, she moves unsteadily to table, Center.)
LUCY BELLE
All right—all right, Slim. I’ll git it fo’ yo’—.