Butch
Christ’s sake! You’re a mad womern! Keep yer shirt on! Mebbe I ain’t done nuthin’. Mebbe I jist been foolin’ myself. Mebbe—for all I know, they ain’t nuthin’ to git excited about.
Elly (suddenly)
Butch! You got blood on yer coat! (She stands a moment, terrified.) You’re hurt! Why’n’t you tell me? Quick, lemme fix it—I didn’t know.
Butch
I ain’t hurt.
Elly
You’re bleedin’.
Butch
It ain’t my blood. (Elly draws back, her hand at her face, confused.) I killed a man.