Mannie, you're killing yourself, and you got to quit it; and if
you don't, every time you take a grain, I'll take two. And she
did! I'd come home, and she'd see what I'd been doing, and she'd
up with her sleeves, and -- " In horrible pantomime, the boy
lifted the cuff of his shirt, and pressed his right thumb
against the wrist of his other arm. At the memory of it, he gave
a shiver and, with a blow, roughly struck the cuff into place.
"God!" he muttered, "I couldn't stand it. I begged, and begged
her not. I cried. I used to get down, in this room, on my knees.
And each time she'd get whiter, and black under the eyes. And --
and I had to stop. Didn't I?"

Winthrop moved his head.

"And now," cried the boy with a happy laugh, "I'm all right!" He
appealed to the older man eagerly, wistfully. "Don't you think
I'm looking better than I did the last time you saw me?"

Again, without venturing to speak, Winthrop nodded.

Mannie smiled with pride. "Everybody tells me so," he said.
"Well, she did it. That's what she did for me. And, I can tell
you," he said simply, sincerely, "there ain't anything I
wouldn't do for her. I guess that's right, hey?" he added.

The eyes of the cruel cross-examiner, veiled under half-closed
lids, were regarding the boy with so curious an expression that
under their scrutiny Mannie, in embarrassment, moved uneasily.
"I guess that's right," he repeated.