'
'They're not real letters.'
'They're all I have.'
He returns to irony. 'I thought you had a son?'
'I never had a man nor a son nor anything. I just call myself Missis to
give me a standing.'
'Well, it's past my seeing through.'
He turns to look for some explanation from the walls. She gets a peep at
him at last. Oh, what a grandly set-up man! Oh, the stride of him. Oh,
the noble rage of him. Oh, Samson had been like this before that woman
took him in hand.
He whirls round on her. 'What made you do it?'
'It was everybody's war, mister, except mine.' She beats her arms.
'I wanted it to be my war too.'
'You'll need to be plainer. And yet I'm d----d if I care to hear you,
you lying old trickster.'
The words are merely what were to be expected, and so are endurable; but
he has moved towards the door.
'You're not going already, mister?'
'Yes, I just came to give you an ugly piece of my mind.'
She holds out her arms longingly. 'You haven't gave it to me yet.'
'You have a cheek!'
She gives further proof of it. 'You wouldn't drink some tea?'
'Me! I tell you I came here for the one purpose of blazing away at you.
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