The
sluttish drudgery of this wretched place for me. Then you dare to
place your conscience before my--comfort."
"Do I?"
The man did not look up. His brooding eyes were on the sky-line to the
southeast.
"I've done as you needed. I've arranged everything with the--hangman.
You're going to touch those pleasant dollars. What more are you asking
me?"
"What more? Yes, you've done these things because I've driven you to
them. You? You'd rather see me sitting around here starving, a worn
wreck of a woman, than lend a willing hand to bettering our lot. Oh,
yes, you've done these things, and--I hate you for the way you've done
them."
The man sat up. He shifted his position so that he could gaze up at
the splendid creature standing over him.
"You don't hate me worse than I hate myself, Effie," he said with an
exasperating lack of emotion. "Say, you feel like kicking me. You
feel like treating me like a surly cur. Well, I guess you're welcome.
I don't guess there's a thing you can do that way can hurt me worse
than you've done already.
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