THE FRENZY OF EVELYN
"It's all my own fault," I says. "I said she had turned Union. I thought she told me so. I guess she didn't. Anyhow, she's not Union—that's plain. We mustn't pester her."
"God above us, you don't understand—you don't understand—I am neither—nothing—now—God—"
She was scared and pleading now. It was Dave who was, really, unreasonable.
"Silence!" said Dave once more.
And there was silence for a moment. Then Dave, by force, takes her hands. Honestly, I don't think she ever loved him more than at that moment when he was almost beating her. You could see it. Like some poor caged pestered animal.
"Yes," says Evelyn, more sorry than I ever saw or heard her, "it's over. I'll keep quiet. I'll be glad to. There's nothing to be done. It can't be mended. You don't understand. You can't, won't. I can't make you. I mustn't. Yes—I'll keep quiet. It must be acts now, not words. And quickly—quickly!"
"Yes," says Dave, "there's something wrong
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