"It's this heat; this pesky old heat almost got me!"
"My poor, sweet boy!" she said, with a sob of relief. "My poor, sweet boy!"
He caressed her weakly, like a man whose strength has been drained from him.
"You ain't mad at me because I kicked up at supper, are you, Charley? You know I don't mean what I say when I'm out of sorts—you know there ain't nobody like my boy!"
He kissed her.
"No; I ain't sore, honey."
"Here's your milk in the ice-box. You must have just got in before me. An' let me fix you a sardine sandwich, lovey."
"I—I ain't hungry, Lil. I—I can't eat nothin'—honest."
"I want you to, Charley—you've had a hard day."
"Yes, a hard day!" he repeated, smiling.