"Wake them!" cried Ethel. "Wake them. They couldn't stop me. Nothing can stop me now. I'm sick of this living on CHARITY; sick of meeting YOU day by day, an implied insult in your every look and word, as much as to say: 'I'M giving you your daily bread; I'M keeping the roof over you!' I'm sick of it. And I end it to-night. Let me go or I'll—I'll—" and she tried in vain to release herself from Peg's grip.
Peg held her resolutely:
"What d'ye mane by INSULT? An' yer DAILY BREAD? An' kapin' the roof over ye? What are ye ravin' about at all?"
"I'm at the end—to-night. I'm going!" and she struggled with Peg up to the windows. But Peg did not loose her hold. It was firmer than before.
"You're not goin' away with him, I tell ye. Ye're NOT. What d'ye suppose ye'd be goin' to? I'll tell ye. A wakin' an' sleepin' HELL—that's what it would be."
"I'm going," said the distracted girl.
"Ye'd take him from his wife an' her baby?"
"He hates THEM! and I hate THIS! I tell you I'm going—"
"So ye'd break yer mother's heart an' his wife's just to satisfy yer own selfish pleasure? Well I'm glad I sinned to-night in doin' what I wanted to do since it's given me the chance to save YOU from doin' the most shameful thing a woman ever did!"
"Will you—" and Ethel again struggled to get free.