“Oh, Vic, dear!” cried a voice he had never heard before. Then a flurry of skirts, then arms about him, then tears and laughter, and eyes which went hungrily over his face.
“I been a houn'-dog. My God, Betty, you don't mean”
“That I love you, Vic. I never knew what it was to love you before.”
“After I been a man-killin', lyin', sneakin'”
“Don't you say another word. Vic, it was all my fault.”
“It wasn't. It was mine. But if you'd only kind of held off a little and gone easy with me”
“You didn't give me a chance.”
“When I looked back from the road you wasn't standin' in the door.”
“I was. And you didn't look back.”
“I did.”
“Vic Gregg, are you trying to”
But the anger fled from her as suddenly as it had come.
“I don't care. I'll take all the blame.”
“I don't want you to. I won't let you.”
She laughed hysterically.
“Vic, tell me that you're free?”
“I'm paroled.”
“Thank God! Oh, I've prayed and prayed—Vic, don't talk. Sit down there—so! I just want to look and look
