Page:Alien Souls by Achmed Abdullah (1922).djvu/238

"I wanta talk t'yer!"

He did not move; did not speak.

Peace, perfect, exquisite—there was the secret of life, the way of salvation. He had reached it once, had felt it once; like the stillness of dawn in a lonely place, like the quiet hush of unseen stars. He had reached it and felt it. He did not want to lose it again. The pilgrimage had been hard, hard.

Deliberately, he gathered his soul into an inner fold of his consciousness.

And then, as from very far off, across illimitable distances, he heard again his wife's voice—low, appealing; presently leaping out extraordinarily strong, with a sweep of utter abandon.

"Bill Devoy—'member the plain-clothes cop?—slips me woid that ye've retoined. And—well. …

"Say! When y' left me, three years ago, I sed to myself I'd never forgive yer—never wanted t' see yer mug again. Told yer I hated yer, didn't I? Gee—I was sure some sore! But," she gave a little throaty, embarrassed laugh, "well—here I am—see?"

Silence. He could hear her breath coming in sibilant, staccato sobs. Again her voice:

"Y'make it hard fer a feller, don't yer? Say! Sweetness! I got my pride—I'm a woman, ain't I?"

Her voice broke a little.

"Sweetness! Aw—Gawd! Why don't yer speak t'me?"

The words wavered, sank, rose again.

"Why don't yer say somethin'? Anything—oh—anything! Just toin and look at me, won't ye? Coise me! Swear at me! Tell me to clear outa here! But—please—speak! Aw—sweetness—won't yer talk t'me—please?"