A long shudder passed through Nell. Then suddenly she raised herself, gripping her mother’s arms, while her eyes blazed through her tears. “Oh, mother, mother ... don’t you see? ... it’s not that I’m afraid he won’t come back ... it’s that I’m afraid he will.”
She threw herself down upon the pillow, sobbing with the accumulated misery, humiliation, rage and dread of weeks. Mrs. Beatup stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Nell—wot are you talking of? You doan’t want Steve to come back?”
“No—I hate him. I—I ... if he comes back ... and takes me away to be my husband for good, I—I’ll kill myself.”
“Reckon you doan’t know what you’re saying. You loved him unaccountable when you wur wed.”
“I didn’t love him ... not truly. And he’s killed the little love I had.”
“But all the fine things he’s guv you....”
“Doan’t talk about them. They’re just part of the horribleness.”
“Then you’re telling me as you maade a mistake?”