“Where do you sleep?”
“On a cot upstairs.”
“And you ought to have a palace. Did you ever look at yourself in the glass?”
“Sometimes, after he beats me.”
Fay started toward the door. He heard a chair upset. Little Emily dragged on his arm.
“Don’t go to him! He’ll kill you.”
“Then you come with me.”
“I’m afraid to.”
The girl spoke the truth. Her color was ashen.
Fay went to the table, lifted her chair, turned it and motioned for her to sit down. She hesitated between the table and door.