"I am tired of this."
"Tired of what?"
"Do you want to know?"
"Yes, I do."
"I'll tell you. I am tired of living in these rooms; tired of going hungry; tired of wearing old clothes; tired of slaving for you—a miserable fake."
"Hold on, Sarah, don't talk to me that way."
"Yes, I will talk to you that way. When I met you, I had plenty of money. You pretended to love me and I was fool enough to accept your love. I let you have money. I had a good, comfortable home, and now where am I? You have squandered every penny on the races. You don't know how to gamble, and yet you gamble away every cent you get. You do not come home when you have a stake and say, 'Here, my dear, is a hundred or two for you.' No, no, you come in and dole me out a few stamps and say, 'Make yourself comfortable.' In fact, when you have a good stake you do not come home at all, if this miserable place can be called a home. Tom, I'll stand it no longer; you and I will separate."
"Hold on, Sarah, do not talk that way."
"Yes, I will talk that way, and I will act. I can make plenty of money. No need for me to stay here and play wife to a man who only cares for himself and who hasn't the courage to start in and make a good haul and give me the comforts I've been accustomed to enjoy; and as you can't do it I'll start out and win them for myself, and I will not furnish you money to gamble while I starve here in these rooms without food, fire or clothing. I tell you I am through."
The man Tom was thoughtful a moment and then said: