“About makin’ you do all this for me!” she cried. “I’m sick over it. I don’t know how to tell you....”
He wondered if it was possible that she did not understand.
“I done the only thing I could think to do,” she said. “There wasn’t anybody else....”
“Do you get the idea,” he demanded, “that I’m ever going to forget how you said that to me that first night? I was drunk—but I knew when you said that. And then—”
“Don’t,” she said.
“How can I help it?” he asked bitterly. “I made fool enough of myself that night—”
“Don’t,” she begged.
“—so’s you never can forget it,” he finished. “And so’s I never can. If it hadn’t been for that—”
“What then?” she asked.