Nellie was hanging limply about his neck and he was aware that she had kissed him; he could not remember when before she had taken such a liberty. Mr. Montgomery believed in a reasonable display of affection, but kissing seemed to him a singularly frivolous practice.
"Oh, my man!" sobbed Nellie.
"Oh, cheese it, and let me loose—I don't like this to-do! Can't a married man come home without all this fuss?"
"Dear Joe, you've come back to me and your babies!" And the tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I don't need you to tell me that—I got plenty sense enough to know when I'm home!" said Montgomery, not without bitterness.
"I mourned you like you was passed away, until your letter come!" said Nellie, and the memory of her sufferings set her sobbing afresh.
"Oh, great hell!" exclaimed Joe dejectedly. "Why can't you act cheerful? What's the good of takin' on, anyhow—I don't like tombstone talk."
"It was just the shock of seein' you standin' there in the door like I seen you so often!" said Nellie weakly.
"If that ain't a woman for you, miserable because she's happy. Say, stop chokin' me; I won't stand for much more of this nonsense, you might know I don't like these to-dos!"
"You don't know what I've suffered, Joe!"