“You cut that and cut it quick!  I’m a decent fellow, I am.  For six years I been tipping you off to leave my mother’s name out—­out of your mouth.  There’s a place for everything and, by gad! your mouth ain’t the place for her name!  By gad!  I ain’t no saint, but I won’t stand for that!  By gad!  I—­I won’t!”

“Oh-h-h-h-h!  Oh-h-h-h!  Oh-h-h!”

She struck her breast twice with the flat of her hand, her voice so tight and high that it carried with it the quality of strangulation.

“Ain’t fit to mention her name, ain’t I?  Ain’t fit to mention her name?  My kind ain’t fit to mention her name, eh?”

“No, if you got to know it.  Not—­like that!  My old mother’s name.  Not like that!”

“Not fit, eh?  What are we fit for, then, us that only get the husks of you men and nothing else?”

“I—­”

“What am I fit for?  Fit to run to when your decent friends won’t stand for you?  Fit to run to when you get mixed up in rotten customs deals?  Fit to stand between you and hell when you got the law snapping at your heels for—­for smuggling?  Who was fit to run to then?  Her whose name I ain’t fit to mention?  Her?  Naw, you was afraid she’d turn on you.  Naw, not her!  Me!  Me!  I’m the one whose mouth is too dirty to mention your old lady’s name—­”

“By gad! you got to cut that or—­”

“Just the same, who was it you hollered for when you woke up in the hospital with your back like raw meat?  Who was it you hollered for then?  Her whose name I ain’t fit to mention?  Naw, it wasn’t!  Me!  Me!  I was good enough then.  I was good enough to smuggle you out of town overnight when you was dodging the law, and to sleep in my clothes for two weeks, ready to give the signal.”

“That’s right, dig up!  Dig up!  You might forget something.”

“I been good enough to give you free all these years what you wasn’t man enough to pay for.  That’s what we women are; we’re the free lunch that you men get with a glass of beer, and what the hell do you care which garbage-pail what’s left of us lands in after you’re done with us!”

“Cut that barroom talk around here if—­”

“Good enough for six years, wasn’t I, to lay down like a door-mat for you to walk on, eh?  Good enough.  Good enough when it came to giving up chunks of my own flesh and blood when your burns was like hell’s fire on your back and all your old woman could do to help was throw a swoon every time she looked at you.  Good enough to—­”

“Gad!  I knew it!  I knew it!  Knew you’d show your yellow streak.”

She fell to moaning in her hands.  “No, no, Max, I—­”

“Bah! you can’t throw that up to me, though.  I never wanted it!  I could have bought it off any one of them poor devils that hang around hospitals, as many inches off any one of ’em as I wanted.  I never wanted them to graft it on me off you.  I told the doctor I didn’t.  I knew you’d be throwing it up to me some day.  If I’d bought it off a stranger I—­I wouldn’t have that limp in front of me always to—­to rub things in.  I knew you’d throw it up to me.  I—­Gad!  I knew it!  I knew it!”