After supper the two sat together in the moonlight on the porch, he silent, she talkative and full of joy. The old-fashioned clock on the mantel within struck seven. He waited about half an hour longer, and then he rose to his feet.
“I want to go to the store and see Nelson Floyd,” he said. “I'll be back inside of an hour, sure.”
She stared at him irresolutely for a moment, then she uttered a low groan.
“Oh, Pole, Pole, Pole! I don't want you to go,” she cried. “You know why. If you get whar any liquor is now, you—you may go off again. Stay with me, Pole! I'll give you some strong coffee. I'll do anything ruther than have you out o' my sight now that you are safe at home. You won't spile all my happiness by goin' off again. Will you, darlin'?”
He caught her wrist with his left hand and held his right steadily upward.
“I'll swear to you, Sally, before God, that I won't tetch a single drop, and that I'll be back inside of an hour. You kin trust me now, Sally. You never heard me speak this way before.”
Their eyes met. “Yes, I kin trust you when you talk that away,” she said. “Don't be gone longer than an hour, Pole. I'll set right here on the porch and wait for you.”
“All right. I'll keep my word, Sally.”
Out at the gate he passed, moving away, his head down, his long arms swinging disconsolately at his sides. When out of sight of the cottage he quickened his step. He must not be late. They must not, under any circumstances, come nearer to his house than the spring, and he must try to secure their promise not to let his degradation reach the ears of his wife and children. He could not stand that.