"I'll see you starve before you get any more of MY money."
The dentist stepped back a pace and stared up at her wonder-stricken. His face was lean and pinched. Never had the jaw bone looked so enormous, nor the square-cut head so huge. The moonlight made deep black shadows in the shrunken cheeks.
"Huh?" asked the dentist, puzzled. "What did you say?"
"I won't give you any money — never again — not a cent."
"But do you know that I'm hungry?"
"Well, I've been hungry myself. Besides, I DON'T believe you."
"Trina, I ain't had a thing to eat since yesterday morning; that's God's truth. Even if I did get off with your money, you CAN'T see me starve, can you? You can't see me walk the streets all night because I ain't got a place to sleep. Will you let me in? Say, will you? Huh?"
"No."
"Well, will you give me some money then — just a little? Give me a dollar. Give me half a dol — Say, give me a DIME, an' I can get a cup of coffee."
"No."