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even a worse thing now?"
He sank, half pushed down by her, into his chair. She saw the revolver, now exposed by his gaping pocket, and had an impulse to take it, but realized that the act would infuriate him anew. So she left it alone and stood squarely in front of him.
He groaned under a vast inrolling wave of indecision, and stared at her like a helpless, thwarted child, and yet she knew that the flames smoldering within him were apt to burst at any moment.
"I want to go home," she said. "I'm giving you this chance to take me in a decent way. If you refuse, I don't know what I'll do, but you'd better take me. For your sake and mine, you'd better do it. Now, I am being driven to the wall, father, and down inside of me is your stubborn nature when it is roused. You harm my husband, and see what I'll do. I'll swear against you at the court of man. I'll appear against you on the Day of Judgment."
He stared at her helplessly. His great mouth fell open and he groaned. "I understand, and--and you may be right," he faltered. "But you'd better hurry. I know myself, and I know that if I met him I'd put him out of the way if all hell stood between me and him. He has dragged my name down into the mire and made me a laughing-stock before all men. I'm pointed at, sneered at--called a senile fool."
"I'll hurry," she promised. "It won't take long."
In the little bedroom she threw open her trunk and began hastily to pack. New fears were now assailing her. What if John should suddenly come home for something he had left, as he had done once or twice? Indeed, there on the bureau lay the blue-and-white drawing which only the night before he had been studying. He might come for that, using Cavanaugh's horse and buggy, as he frequently did. The thought chilled her to the marrow of her bones. In her haste she all but tore her simple dresses from their hooks in the closet and stuffed them, unfolded, into the trunk. Now and then a little stifled sob escaped her. Her father sat still and soundless in the other room. She wanted to brush his clothes, tie his shoes, and fix his hatband before starting away, but time was too valuable.
There was a pad of writing-paper and a pencil on the bureau, and she told herself that she must write John a note and leave it. She closed and locked her trunk. Then she turned to the pad. She took up the pencil and started to write, but was interrupted. Her father crossed the hall and stood in the doorway.
"What are you doing?" he asked, a suspicious gleam in the eyes which took in the pad and pencil.
"Nothing. I am ready," she replied, dropping the pencil and turning to a window. "Come in and get the trunk," she ordered the cabman.
Nothing was said by Whaley or herself now, for the negro, hat in hand, was entering. And when he had left with the trunk, Tilly said:
"Come on, father, let's go."
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