In The Bishop's Carriage [43]
believed me and--and began to think of me in a different way.
"I thought you wouldn't go back on a feller, Nance. That's why I come straight to you. It was my game to have you hide me for a day or two, till you could make a strike somewhere and we'd light out together. How're ye fixed? Pretty smart, eh? You look it, my girl, you look--My eye, Nance, you look good enough to eat, and I'm hungry for you!"
Maggie, if I'd had to die for it I couldn't have moved then. You'd think a man would know when the woman he's holding in his arms is fainting--sick at the touch of him. A woman would. It wasn't my Tom that I'd known, that I'd worked with and played with and--It was a great brute, whose mouth--who had no eyes, no ears, no senses but--ah! . . .
He laughed when I broke away from him at last. He laughed! And I knew then I'd have to tell him straight in words.
"Tom," I gasped, "you can have all I've got; and it's plenty to get you out of the way. But--but you can't have--me--any more. That's--done!"
Oh, the beast in his face! It must have looked like that when the guard got his last glimpse of it.
"You're kiddin' me?" he growled.
I shook my head.
Then he ripped it out. Said the worst he could and ended with a curse! The blood boiled in me. The old Nance never stood that; she used to sneer at other women who did.
"Get out of here!" I cried. "Go--go, Tom Dorgan. I'll send every cent I've got to you to Mother Douty's within two hours, but don't you dare--"
"Don't YOU dare, you she-devil! Just make up your mind to drop these newfangled airs, and mighty quick. I tell you you'll come with me 'cause I need you and I want you, and I want you now. And I'll keep you when once I get you again. We'll hang together. No more o' this one-sided lay-out for me, where you get all the soft and it's me for the hard. You belong to me. Yes, you do. Just think back a bit, Nance Olden, and remember the kind of customer I am. If you've forgot, just let me remind you that what I know would put you behind bars, my lady, and it shall, I swear, if I've got to go to the Chair for it!"
Tom! It was Tom talking that way to me. I couldn't bear it. I made a rush for the door.
He got there, too, and catching me by the shoulder, he lifted his fist.
But it never fell, Mag. I think I could kill a man who struck me. But just as I shut my eyes and shivered away from him, while I waited for the blow, a knock came at the door and Fred Obermuller walked in.
"Eh? Oh! Excuse me. I didn't know there was anybody else. Nance, your face is ghastly. What's up?" he said sharply.
He looked from me to Tom--Tom, standing off there ready to spring on him, to dart past him, to fly out of the window--ready for anything; only waiting to know what the thing was to be.
My senses came back to me then. The sight of Obermuller, with those keen, quick eyes behind his glasses, his strong, square chin, and the whole poise of his head and body that makes men wait to hear what he has to say; the knowledge that that man was my friend, mine--Nancy Olden's--lifted me out of the mud I'd sunk back in, and put my feet again on a level with his.
"Tom," I said slowly, "Mr. Obermuller is a friend of mine. No--listen! What we've been talking about is settled. Don't bring it up again. It doesn't interest him and it can't change me; I swear to you, it can't; nothing can. I'm going to ask Mr. Obermuller to help you without telling him just what the scrape is, and--and I'm going to be sure that he'll do it just because he--"
"Because you've taken up with him, have you?" Tom shouted savagely. "Because she's your--"
"Tom!" I cried.
"Tom--oh, yes, now I remember." Obermuller got between us as he spoke. "Your friend up--in the country that you went to see and couldn't. Not a very good-looker, your friend, Nance. But--farming, I suppose, Mr.--Tom?--plays the deuce with one's looks. And another thing it does: it makes a man forget sometimes just how to behave in town. I'll be charmed, Mr. Tom, to oblige a friend
"I thought you wouldn't go back on a feller, Nance. That's why I come straight to you. It was my game to have you hide me for a day or two, till you could make a strike somewhere and we'd light out together. How're ye fixed? Pretty smart, eh? You look it, my girl, you look--My eye, Nance, you look good enough to eat, and I'm hungry for you!"
Maggie, if I'd had to die for it I couldn't have moved then. You'd think a man would know when the woman he's holding in his arms is fainting--sick at the touch of him. A woman would. It wasn't my Tom that I'd known, that I'd worked with and played with and--It was a great brute, whose mouth--who had no eyes, no ears, no senses but--ah! . . .
He laughed when I broke away from him at last. He laughed! And I knew then I'd have to tell him straight in words.
"Tom," I gasped, "you can have all I've got; and it's plenty to get you out of the way. But--but you can't have--me--any more. That's--done!"
Oh, the beast in his face! It must have looked like that when the guard got his last glimpse of it.
"You're kiddin' me?" he growled.
I shook my head.
Then he ripped it out. Said the worst he could and ended with a curse! The blood boiled in me. The old Nance never stood that; she used to sneer at other women who did.
"Get out of here!" I cried. "Go--go, Tom Dorgan. I'll send every cent I've got to you to Mother Douty's within two hours, but don't you dare--"
"Don't YOU dare, you she-devil! Just make up your mind to drop these newfangled airs, and mighty quick. I tell you you'll come with me 'cause I need you and I want you, and I want you now. And I'll keep you when once I get you again. We'll hang together. No more o' this one-sided lay-out for me, where you get all the soft and it's me for the hard. You belong to me. Yes, you do. Just think back a bit, Nance Olden, and remember the kind of customer I am. If you've forgot, just let me remind you that what I know would put you behind bars, my lady, and it shall, I swear, if I've got to go to the Chair for it!"
Tom! It was Tom talking that way to me. I couldn't bear it. I made a rush for the door.
He got there, too, and catching me by the shoulder, he lifted his fist.
But it never fell, Mag. I think I could kill a man who struck me. But just as I shut my eyes and shivered away from him, while I waited for the blow, a knock came at the door and Fred Obermuller walked in.
"Eh? Oh! Excuse me. I didn't know there was anybody else. Nance, your face is ghastly. What's up?" he said sharply.
He looked from me to Tom--Tom, standing off there ready to spring on him, to dart past him, to fly out of the window--ready for anything; only waiting to know what the thing was to be.
My senses came back to me then. The sight of Obermuller, with those keen, quick eyes behind his glasses, his strong, square chin, and the whole poise of his head and body that makes men wait to hear what he has to say; the knowledge that that man was my friend, mine--Nancy Olden's--lifted me out of the mud I'd sunk back in, and put my feet again on a level with his.
"Tom," I said slowly, "Mr. Obermuller is a friend of mine. No--listen! What we've been talking about is settled. Don't bring it up again. It doesn't interest him and it can't change me; I swear to you, it can't; nothing can. I'm going to ask Mr. Obermuller to help you without telling him just what the scrape is, and--and I'm going to be sure that he'll do it just because he--"
"Because you've taken up with him, have you?" Tom shouted savagely. "Because she's your--"
"Tom!" I cried.
"Tom--oh, yes, now I remember." Obermuller got between us as he spoke. "Your friend up--in the country that you went to see and couldn't. Not a very good-looker, your friend, Nance. But--farming, I suppose, Mr.--Tom?--plays the deuce with one's looks. And another thing it does: it makes a man forget sometimes just how to behave in town. I'll be charmed, Mr. Tom, to oblige a friend