that Nigger charm—but behind your back a constant bickering and whispering. Gossip! Jealousy! Hatred! Smiles to your face, and a knife in the back.
Lasca!
Well, she continued, in a cold, calm tone, while I'm talking I might as well tell you that I don't think any more of you than I do of the others.
Lasca! He was on his knees before her. Don't say that! Don't say that!
I do say it. I'm using you just the way I use tooth-powder. After I'm done with your body I'll throw it out of the window, in the sewer, anywhere.
Lasca! Weeping softly, he buried his face in his hands. You can't mean that! I can't live without you!
You can't live without me! Hell, you can't. Forty men have said that and they're all walking the streets. White men and brown men, they're all the same. All. I use 'em until I tire of oem and then I say, damn you and good-bye!
He raised his head to look at her. What he saw, the hideous distortion of the features, the tautness of the muscles of her throat, the glare in her eyes, terrified him.
You're just like all the others, you filthy Nigger kept boy.
Suddenly he flamed with rage. With a swift
