he situation, and did his best to appear
oblivious.

"I was just telling your wife--" he began, but was savagely interrupted.

"I don't care what you was tellin' her. But I got something to tell you,
Mister Man. My wife's made up your bed too many times to suit me."

"Billy!" Saxon cried, her face scarlet with resentment, and hurt, and
shame.

Billy ignored her. Harmon was saying:

"I don't understand--"

"Well, I don't like your mug," Billy informed him. "You're standin' on
your foot. Get off of it. Get out. Beat it. D'ye understand that?"

"I don't know what's got into him," Saxon gasped hurriedly to the
fireman. "He's not himself. Oh, I am so ashamed, so ashamed."

Billy turned on her.

"You shut your mouth an' keep outa this."

"But, Billy," she remonstrated.

"An' get outa here. You go into the other room."

"Here, now," Harmon broke in. "This is a fine way to treat a fellow."

"I've given you too much rope as it is," was Billy's answer.

"I've paid my rent regularly, haven't I?"

"An' I oughta knock your block off for you. Don't see any reason I
shouldn't, for that matter."

"If you do anything like that, Billy--" Saxon began.

"You here still? Well, if you won't go into the other room, I'll see
that you do."

His hand clutched her arm. For one instant she resisted his strength;
and in that instant, the flesh crushed under his fingers, she realized
the fullness of his strength.

In the front room she could only lie back in the Morris chair sobbing,
and listen to what occurred in the kitchen. "I'll stay to the end of the
week," the fireman was saying. "I've paid in advance."

"Don't make no mistake," came Billy's voice, so slow that it was almost
a drawl, yet quivering with rage. "You can't get out too quick if you
wanta stay healthy--you an' your traps with you. I'm likely to start
something any moment."

"Oh, I know you're a slugger--" the fireman's voice began.

Then came the unmistakable impact of a blow; the crash of glass; a
scuffle on the back porch; and, finally, the heavy bumps of a body down
the steps. She heard Billy reenter the kitchen, move about, and knew
he was sweeping up the broken glass of the kitchen door. Then he washed
himself at the sink, whistling while he dried his face and hands, and
walked into the front room. She did not look at him. She was too sick
and sad. He paused irresolutely, seeming to make up his mind.

"I'm goin' up town," he stated. "They's a meetin