Alice pitied her mother and grew hard. "Well, you knew he was going to see her."
There was a silence. Then Mrs. Farley said, "I know I can't expect any sympathy from you. My own child connives with her father to get rid of me."
"I'm sorry things are like this, Mamma, but I won't be blamed for them. If I were you I wouldn't allow myself to be placed in this kind of a position."
"Oh, I know you! I know you!" Mrs. Farley's voice broke as with age and vindictiveness. She turned and went out, stumbling over the edge of the matting and catching the door lintel as she passed into the light.
Alice stood quietly a moment resisting the contagion of her mother's panic. Then, conquering stubbornness, she followed.
Mrs. Farley was in the back of the hall leaning against the stair rail. She was in her nightdress that fell, like hanging water, white through the gloom. She was making a slow way toward the kitchen.
"What are you trying to do, Mamma?" Alice called. Her body, uncorseted, was heavy. She walked quickly after her mother. She knew what her mother was trying to do.
Mrs. Farley dallied a little, but she would not answer. Her hands were hid, carrying something.
Alice came up behind. She caught her mother quickly from the back. "Give me that pistol, do you hear me!"
"No, no! I won't!" The scrawny body bent forward and doubled itself against Alice's reaching hand.