"Oh, let me go!"
"No, I won't, Millie. I'll never let you go."
"For God's sake, Jim! Jim—oh, don't kiss me!"
The boy stirred again—and began to mutter in his sleep. At once the woman commanded herself. She stiffened—released herself—pushed the man away. She lifted a hand—until the child lay quiet once more. There was meantime breathless silence. Then she pointed imperiously to the door. The man sullenly held his place. She tiptoed to the door—opened it; again imperiously gestured. He would not stir.
"I'll go," he whispered, "if you tell me I can come back."
The boy awoke—but was yet blinded by sleep; and the room was dim-lit. He rubbed his eyes. The man and the woman stood rigid in the shadow.
"Is it you, mother?"
There was no resisting her command—her flashing eyes, the passionate gesture. The man moved to the door, muttering that he would come back—and disappeared. She closed the door after him.
"Yes, dear," she answered. "It is your mother."
"Was there a man with you?"