"Albert—"
"Oh, I don't put anything past you. I don't even know if that girl is mine. For all I know you're a—"
"Albert!"
"Bah! I don't put anything past you!"
She faced his words as if they were blows, letting them rain.
"You're lying, Albert," she said, evenly. "She's yours and you know it."
"I've kept my name! Kept it and tried to make it up to your parents, who deserved better than you!"
She quivered and the red that sprang out in her face was almost purple, and yet by her silence bared her chest for more, as if grateful for the sting of the lash.
"Bah! Don't be afraid. I don't want to know anything, but I'm not the booby I may seem to you. When a woman has lived around this way for all these years, in with a gang of show folks—Bah! I don't want to know." And spat.
"She's yours, Albert, and you know it. You know it!"