"I can't do things alone all the time, Harry. I—I'm funny that way. I ain't a woman like that, a new-fangled one that can do things without her husband. It's the nights that kill me—the nights. The—all nights sitting here alone—waiting."
"If you 'ain't learned the demands of my business by now, I'm not going over them again."
"Yes; but not all—"
"You ought to have some men to deal with. I'd like to see Mrs. Unger try to dictate to him how to run his business."
"You've left me behind, Harry. I—try to keep up, but—I can't. I ain't the woman to naturally paint my hair this way. It's my trying to keep up, Harry, with you and—and—Edwin. These clothes—I ain't right in 'em, Harry; I know that. That's why I can't stand it. The suspense. The waiting up nights. I tell you I'm going crazy. Crazy with knowing I'm left behind."
"I never told you to paint up your hair like a freak."
"I thought, Harry—the color—like hers—it might make me seem younger—"
"You thought! You're always thinking."
She stood behind him now over the couch, her hand yearning toward but not touching him.
"O God! Harry, ain't there no way I can please you no more—no way?"