'They're all I have.'
He returns to irony. 'I thought you had a son?'
'I never had a man nor a son nor anything. I just call myself Missis to give me a standing.'
'Well, it's past my seeing through.'
He turns to look for some explanation from the walls. She gets a peep at him at last. Oh, what a grandly set-up man! Oh, the stride of him. Oh, the noble rage of him. Oh, Samson had been like this before that woman took him in hand.
He whirls round on her. 'What made you do it?'
'It was everybody's war, mister, except mine.' She beats her arms. 'I wanted it to be my war too.'
'You'll need to be plainer. And yet I'm d——d if I care to hear you, you lying old trickster.'
The words are merely what were to be expected, and so are endurable; but he has moved towards the door.
'You're not going already, mister?'