But he felt sure that Josephine was secretly
"keeping cases" on the jug; and Ford was stubborn.
That night Ford did not respond to the tinkle of the tea bell. His head
ached abominably, and he did not want to see Josephine's averted face
opposite him at the table. He lay still upon the bed where he had
finally thrown himself, and let the bell tinkle until it was tired.
They sent Buddy in to see why he did not come. Buddy looked at him with
the round, curious eyes of precocious childhood and went back and
reported that Ford wasn't asleep, but was just lying there mad. Ford
heard the shrill little voice innocently maligning him, and swore to
himself; but, he did not move for all that. He lay thinking and fighting
discouragement and thirst, while little table sounds came through the
partition and made a clicking accompaniment to his thoughts.
If he were free, he was wondering between spells of temptation, would it
do any good? Would Josephine care? There was no answer to that, or if
there was he did not know what it was.
After awhile the two women began talking; he judged that Buddy had left
them, because it was sheer madness to speak so freely before him.
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