Her teeth came together with a sharp snap.
"Better be careful you don't learn too much,—about me."
She whispered it beneath her breath.
"Muttering,—huh?" He leaned toward her over the table. "I don't like no muttering. I ain't the one to allow no muttering around me. Speak out—if you got something to say;—and if you ain't,—why, then,—shut up!"
The lamp threw its full light up into his face. Not one muscle, not one wrinkle, but stood out harshly above its crude flame. She drew back a step.
"All right." She had been goaded into it. "I'll speak up—All right. That's what you wants, ain't it? I've stood for enough. I reckon I've stood for too much. You knows that. But you ain't thought that maybe I knows it,—have you? That makes a difference,—don't it? You knows the way you treats me,—only you ain't thought that I ever gives it no thought;—and I ain't,—no,—I ain't; not till you brought that there China-Ching here. Not—till—you—brought—China-Ching."
"What's that mut got to do between you and me?"
His eyes refused to meet her eyes that were ablaze with a strange, inspired light.
"Everything. From the day I seen you bring him here—; from the day I seen you beating him because he snapped at you—; from the day you chained him up to that dog-house to break his spirit—; from that day it come over me what you done to me."
"You're crazy;—plum crazy!"