"Oh, you mean in the kitchen? I thought she'd said something new. You didn't seem to mind that. You've been friendly with her since she said it. I heard you laughing and talking out there."
"Of course I laughed and talked. I wouldn't let her know that she had hit me at all."
"Well, it hit me and got me damn sore. I've been sitting here thinking about it. How does she get that way, butting in on our business?"
Lillian lit a cigarette and fell into a chair. The chair's insides groaned and sagged beneath her weight. "It made me wild," she said, "to think that Louise of all people can feel sorry for me. I hate people to pity me, least of all somebody like her."
"Why somebody like her?"
"Because she lived with a fellow and then married him. Nobody feels so pure as some bum who's just got done sinning. And to think she's got the chance to be sorry for me. I swear the idea makes me so sick I could die."
Hubert leaned down and began to unlace his shoes. "What made me sore," he said, "was her butting in and saying that you was unhappy."
"Oh, well, maybe you can't understand my part of it. You ain't a girl. You don't know how a best friend always likes to have something to pity you for and how you'd sooner have strangers know about your blue moments. Gee, I bet she was in a rush to get married just so she could pull that song and dance tonight. The little bitch."
