neuralgia and lie down beside that grave out there and--"

"Mamma, don't talk like that!"

"But now's my chance, Alma, to get well. I've too much worry in this big
hotel trying to keep up big expenses on little money and--"

"I know it, mamma. That's why I'm so in favor of finding ourselves a
sweet, tiny little apartment with kitch--"

"No! Your father died with the world thinking him a rich man and they
will never find out from me that he wasn't. I won't be the one to
humiliate his memory--a man who enjoyed keeping up appearances the way
he did. Oh, Alma, Alma, I'm going to get well now! I promise. So help me
God if I ever give in to--it again."

"Mamma, please! For God's sake, you've said the same thing so often,
only to break your promise."

"I've been weak, Alma; I don't deny it. But nobody who hasn't been
tortured as I have can realize what it means to get relief just by--"

"Mamma, you're not playing fair this minute. That's the frightening
part. It isn't only the neuralgia any more. It's just desire. That's
what's so terrible to me, mamma. The way you have been taking it these
last months. Just from--desire."

Mrs. Samstag buried her face, shuddering, down into her hands.

"O God! My own child against me!"