"Where's that money?"
"Right here." She hesitated, opening her purse. "Bert—it's all we have, isn't it?"
"What difference does that make? It isn't all I'm going to have."
"Listen just a minute. Did that woman tell you she was going to buy land?"
"Good Lord, do I have to stand here and talk? They're waiting. Give me that money."
"But Bert. She's taking another hat with her. She's got it in a bag, and she's got two suitcases, and she—the way she looks—I believe she's just going somewhere and getting you to take her in the machine. And—please let me finish—if it's all the money we have don't you think—"
She knew that his outburst of anger was her own fault. He was nervous and over-wrought; she should have soothed him, agreed with him in anything, in everything. But there had been no time. Shaken as she was by his words, she clung to her opinion, even tried to express it again. She felt that their last hold on security was the money in her purse, and she saw him losing it in a hopeless effort. Against his experience and authority she could offer only an impression, and the absurdity of talking about a hatsack in a woman's hand. The futility of such weapons increased her desperation. His scorn ended in rage. "Are you going to give me that money?"
Tears she would not shed blinded her. Her fingers fumbled with the fastening of the purse. The coins slid out and scattered on the floor. He picked them up, and the slamming of the door told her he was gone.
She no longer tried to hold her self-control. When it came back to her it came slowly, as skies clear after a storm. Her body was exhausted with sobs and her face was swollen and sodden, but she felt a great relief. The glare of sunlight on the drawn shades and the stifling heat told her that it was late in the afternoon. She undressed wearily, bathed her face with cool water and, lying down again, was engulfed in the pleasant darkness of sleep.
The next day and the next passed with a slowness that was like a deliberate refinement of cruelty. She felt that time itself was malicious, prolonging her suspense. The young salesmen shared it with her. They had telegraphed friends and families and were awaiting money with which to get out of town. One by one they were released and departed joyfully. Five days passed. Six. Seven.