Butch
But, Elly....
Elly (imperiously)
Set down! And eat yer breakfast,—Mister Murderer! (He sits. Elly leans over the table.) Eat a plenty. Drink—here’s coffee. Salt pork, gravy, potaters—eat ’em! Enjoy yerself!
Butch (half rising)
Whut’re you meanin’! I hadn’t oughta done it? Whut’d you want me to do ... let him git away with it, let that dirty little coward sneak off to Tulsy and sick the officers onto me like bloodhounds ’n do nuthin’ about it? That ain’t my way! If some one does me dirt he gets his, you c’n count on it! I ain’t no Christian: I’m a man!
Elly (with infinite scorn)
You—
Butch
I’m a man. Let up!