‘I can’t, Abner . . . not now,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t think: I can’t feel. Oh, why didn’t he kill me . . . why didn’t he kill me?’
He would have lifted her to her feet, but she lay a dead weight in his arms. All power of volition had left her. She sank back again limply, shaking her head from side to side. Her hair had become loose. It hung down over her shoulder.
Abner felt that he must do something to break the paralysing spell that held them.
‘I’m going, Mary,’ he said. ‘I can’t stay. Let me help you up! Come along now!’
She shook her head. ‘It’s no use, Abner.’
‘There’s naught left for you here that I can see. It’s only you and the kids I want to look after.’
She could only go on sobbing: ‘It’s no use . . . it’s no use!’
‘Well, I’m no judge. Maybe yo’m right,’ he said.
He turned from her and went upstairs to collect a few of his belongings. On his way down again Gladys came timidly to the door of Mary’s room and called his name. Her piteous fragility touched him. He took her in his arms and kissed her.
‘Where are you going, Abner?’ she whispered. ‘Where’s mam?’