"It was God, speaking through her," she said. "It was God. And you—you had denied Him—you beast!"
All at once Jim was down upon the floor beside her. The mask of passion had slipped from his face—his shoulders seemed suddenly more narrow—his cruel hands almost futile. Rose-Marie wondered, subconsciously, how she had ever feared him.
"She yelled," he reiterated, "did yer hear her—"
Rose-Marie clutched the child tighter in her arms.
"Get some one, at once," she ordered, "if you don't want her to die—if you don't want to be a murderer!"
But Jim had not heard her voice. He was sobbing, gustily.
"I'm t'rough," he was sobbing, "t'rough! Oh—God, fergive—"
It was then that the door opened. And Rose-Marie, raising eyes abrim with relief, saw that Ella and Mrs. Volsky and Bennie stood upon the threshold.
"What's a-matter?" questioned Mrs. Volsky—her voice sodden with grief. "What's been a-happenin'?" But Ella ran across the space between them, and knelt in front of Rose-Marie.
"Give 'er t' me!" she breathed fiercely; "she's my sister. Give 'er t' me!"