He planted himself before her, feet well apart, and she rose, pushing back her chair, paling.
"I—I 'ain't got much of anything to say, Max, except I—I thought maybe you'd tell me what's eating you, dearie."
"I—"
"After all these years we been together, Max, so—so happy, all of a sudden, dear, these last two months dropping off from every other night to—to twice a week and then to—to once, and this last week—not at all. I—I—heavens above, Max, I 'ain't got nothing to say except what's got you. Tell me, dearie, is it anything I've done? Is it—"
"You talk like a loon, Mae, honest you do. You 'ain't done nothing. It's just that the—the time's come, that's all. You know it had to. It always has to. If you don't know it, a woman like—like you ought to. Gad! I used to think you was the kind would break as clean as a whistle when the time came to break."
"Break, Max?"
"Yes, break. And don't gimme the baby-stare like that, neither. You know what I mean alrighty. You wasn't born yesterday, old girl!"
The blood ran from her face, blanching it. "You mean, Max—"
"Aw, you know what I mean alrighty, Mae, only you ain't sport enough to take things as they come. You knew all these years it had to come sooner or later. I 'ain't never quizzed into your old life, but if you didn't learn that, you—well you ought to. There never was a New Year came in, Mae, that I didn't tell you that, if you got the chance, for you to go out after better business. I never stood in your light or made no bones about nothing!"
"My God! Max, you—you're kidding!"