“It ain’t! Air, he said, right living—early hours and all. I gotta get out of the basement. He’ll get me a job. A grand old man! Windows open; right living. No—no dancing and all, for a while, Charley. Three months only, Charley; and then—”
“What, I say—”
“It ain’t, Charley! I swear it ain’t. Just one—the left one—a little sore down at the base—the bottom. Charley, quit looking at me like that! It ain’t a real case—it ain’t; it ain’t!”
“It ain’t what?”
“The—the T.B. Just the left one; down at—”
“You—you—” An oath as hot as a live coal dropped from his lips and he drew back, strangling. “You—you got it, and you’re letting me down easy. You got it, and it’s catching as hell! You got it, you white devil, and—and you’re tryin’ to lie out of it—you—you—”
“Charley! Charley!”
“You got it, and you been letting me eat it off your lips! You devil, you! You devil, you! You devil, you!”
“Charley, I—”
“I could kill you! Lemme wash my mouth! You got it; and if you got it I got it! I got it! I got it! I—I—”