THE SPORT OF THE GODS
"I could n't. He would fin' me anywhaih I went to."
"Let him fin' you. You'll be wid me, an' we'll settle it, him an' me."
"I want to, but oh, I can't, I can't," she wailed. "Please go now, Be'y, befo' he gits home. He 's mad anyhow, 'cause you're out."
Berry looked at her hard, and then said in a dry voice, "An' so I got to go an' leave you to him?"
"Yes, you mus'; I'm his'n now."
He turned to the door, murmuring, "My wife gone, Kit a nobody, an' Joe, little Joe, a murderer, an' then I— I— ust to pray Gawd an call him 'Ouah Fathah.'" He laughed hoarsely. It sounded like nothing Fannie had ever heard before.
"Don't, Be'y, don't say dat. Maybe we don't un'erstan'."
Her faith still hung by a slender thread, but his had given way in that moment.
"No, we don't un'erstan'," he laughed
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