"How do you know him?"
"I—the girls, I.W. One little girl now, Cissie—I—I hear it all from my friend Delehanty—sometimes she—she writes to me. I—the models and—the girls and—and the lady buyers—they—they used to gossip in the factory and—I—I used to hear about it. I.W., don't! Let go! You hurt!" His teeth and his hands were very tight, and he hung now over the side of the bed and toward her.
"He—I.W.—he—"
"He what? He what?"
"He—ain't good enough."
"I say he is!"
"But he—I.W.—she—she's such a baby and he—he—. You hurt!"
"Then tell me, he what?"
"I.W., you're hurting me!"
"He what—do you hear?—he what?"