angrily, wondering if she must always be the last one awake in that house.
“Why law, no!” said Eliza. “I can’t, boy. I’ve all those things to iron.”
Beside him, Laura gave his hand a quiet squeeze, and rose. Bitterly, he watched his loss.
“Good-night, all. Good-night, Mrs. Gant.”
“Good-night, child.”
When she had gone, Eliza sat down beside him, with a sigh of weariness.
“I tell you what,” she said. “That feels good. I wish I had as much time as some folks, and could sit out here enjoying the air.” In the darkness, he knew her puckering lips were trying to smile.
“Hm!” she said, and caught his hand in her rough palm. “Has my baby gone and got him a girl?”
“What of it? What if it were true?” he said angrily. “Haven’t I a right as much as any one?”
“Pshaw!” said Eliza. “You’re too young to think of them. I wouldn’t pay any attention to them, if I were you. Most of them haven’t an idea in the world except going out to parties and having a good time. I don’t want my boy to waste his time on them.”
He felt her earnestness beneath her awkward banter. He struggled in a chaos of confused fury, trying for silence. At last he spoke in a low voice, filled with his passion:
“We’ve got to have something, mama. We’ve got to have something, you know. We can’t go on always alone—alone.”
It was dark. No one could see. He let the gates swing open. He wept.
“I know!” Eliza agreed hastily. “I’m not saying—”
“My God, my God, where are we going? What’s it all about? He’s dying—can’t you see it? Don’t you know it? Look at his life. Look at yours. No light, no love, no comfort—nothing.” His voice rose frantically: he beat on his ribs like a drum. “Mama, mama, in God’s name, what is it? What do you want? Are you going to strangle and drown us all? Don’t you own enough?
