.. and she went off and left you!"
"Yes, she's left me all right, Johnnie, but not that way ... she's
dead!"
And Paul stopped with a sob in his throat. I didn't know what to say to
his sudden declaration, so I just repeated foolishly, "why, I never knew
you got married!" twice.
"Christ, Johnnie, she was the best little woman in the world--such a
little creature, Johnnie ... her head didn't more'n come up to under my
armpits."
There followed a long silence, to me an awkward one; I didn't know what
to do or say. Then I perceived the best thing was to let him ease his
hurt by just talking on ... and he talked ... on and on ... in his slow,
drawling monotone ... and ever so often came the refrain, "Christ, but
she was a good woman, Johnnie ... I wish you'd 'a' knowed her."
At last I ventured, "and how--how did she come to die?"
"--baby killed her, she was that small ... she was like a little girl
... she oughtn't to of had no baby at all, doctor said...."
"I killed her, Johnnie," he cried in agony, "and that's the God's truth
of it."
Another long silence.
The lamp guttered but didn't go out. A moth had flown down its chimney,
was sizzling, charring, inside ... Paul lifted off the globe. Burnt his
hands, but said nothing ... flicked the wingless, blackened body to the
floor....
"But the baby?--it lived?"
"Yes, it lived .
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