“Don’t I, though!”
She spoke through her teeth. Her words clicked and broke like dropping icicles. Swiftly her passion turned into stone, and as swiftly back again, leaping out in a great, spattering stream of abuse.
“Yer damned, yellow, stinkin’ Chink! Yer—yer—Wottya mean—makin’ me bear children—yer own children—an’ then—” Little Fanny was beginning to howl lustily and she covered her face with kisses. “Say, kiddie, it’s a helluva dad you’ve drawn! A helluva dad! Look at him—standin’ there! Greasy an’ yellow an’— Say—he’s willin’ to sell yer into slavery to some other beast of a Chink! Say—”
“You are a—ah—a Chink yourself, fool!”
“I ain’t! I’m white—an’ square—an’ decent—an’—”
“Ah!”
He lit a cigarette and smiled placidly, and suddenly she knew that it would be impossible to argue, to plead with him. Might as well plead with some sardonic, deaf immensity, without nerves, without heart. And then, womanlike, the greater wrong disappeared in the lesser.
“Ye’re right. I’m part Chink myself—an’ damned sorry for myself because of it! An’ that’s why I know why yer gave me no presents when lil Fanny was born. Because she’s a girl! As if that was my fault, yer fat, sneerin’ slob, yer! Yah! That’s why yer gave me no presents—I know! I know what it means when a Chink don’t give no presents to his wife when she gives boith to a child! Make me lose face—that’s wottya call it, ain’t it? An’ I thought fer a while yer was savin’ up the ducats to give lil Fanny a start in life!
“Well, yer got another guess comin’! Yer gonna do wot I tell yer, see? Yer gonna open up that there new restaurant up-town, an’ yer gonna give me presents! A bracelet, that’s what I want! None o’ yer measly Chink jade, either; but the real thing, get me? Gold an’ diamonds, see?” and she was still talking as he, unmoved, silent, smiling, left the room and went down the creaking stairs to find solace in the spiced cups of the Palace of Sweet Desire and Heavenly Entertainment.
She rushed up to the window and threw it wide. She leaned far out, her hair framing her face like a glorious, disordered aureole, her loose robe slipping from her gleaming shoulders, her violet eyes blazing fire and hatred.