Times hard.
He had to go. A year and a half--it was to be. A year and a half. Two
years we'd been married.
(_She sits silent, moving a little back and forth._)
The day he went away. (_not spoken, but breathed from pain_) The days
after he was gone.
I heard at first. Last letter said farther north--not another chance to
write till on the way home. (_a wait_)
Six months. Another, I did not hear. (_long wait_) Nobody ever heard.
(_after it seems she is held there, and will not go on_) I used to talk
as much as any girl in Provincetown. Jim used to tease me about my
talking. But they'd come in to talk to me. They'd say--'You may hear
_yet._' They'd talk about what must have happened. And one day a woman
who'd been my friend all my life said--'Suppose he was to walk _in!_' I
got up and drove her from my kitchen--and from that time till this I've
not said a word I didn't have to say. (_she has become almost wild in
telling this. That passes. In a whisper_) The ice that caught
Jim--caught me. (_a moment as if held in ice. Comes from it. To_ MRS
PATRICK _simply_) It's not the way. (_a sudden change_) You're not the
only woman in the world whose husband is dead!
MRS PATRICK: (_with a cry of the hurt_) Dead? My husband's not _dead_.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46