"Into the country." Genevieve Evans' voice was lifeless. "Into the country where everything is quiet and big—; and clean. You said that, Nannie?"
"I said the country, Miss Genevieve, dearie."
"Nannie—Nannie—;" her eyes were staring straight before her. "I—want—to—go!"
"Lamb—darling."
The woman stood undecided.
"But he wouldn't let me. He laughed at me. Nannie, he laughed."
The woman made up her mind.
"Will Nannie stop with you a bit, Miss Genevieve, dearie?"
"You said;" Genevieve Evans' lifeless, monotonous voice went on; "you said you wouldn't blame me for being angry. I get very angry, Nannie. Very angry. It brings all kinds of things to me when I get angry. His kind of things. Rotten things. And he's going to take her into the country; where everything's clean; and he won't let me—go. God!"
"Will I stay, Miss Genevieve?"