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at　there　are　people　in　the　world　for　whom　‘ing　along’　is　a　perpetual　process；　people　whoare　destined　never　to　arrive。　For　ten　years　he　came　along；　but　when　he　left　her　he　was　the　sameman　she　had　married。　He　had　not　changed　at　all。
　　He　had　never　made　enough　money　to　buy　the　home　she　wanted；　or　anything　else　she　reallywanted；　and　this　had　been　part　of　the　trouble　between　them。　It　was　not　that　he　could　not　makemoney；　but　that　he　would　not　save　it。　He　would　take　half　a　week’s　wages　and　go　out　and　buysomething　he　wanted；　or　something　he　thought　she　wanted。　He　would　e　home　on　Saturdayafternoons；　already　half　drunk；　with　some　useless　objects；　such　a　vase；　which；　it　had　occurred　tohim；　she　would　like　to　fill　with　flowers—she　who　never　noticed　flowers　and　who　would　certainlynever　have　bought　any。　Or　a　hat；　always　too　expensive　or　too　vulgar；　or　a　ring　that　looked　asthough　it　had　been　designed　for　a　whore。　Sometimes　it　occurred　to　him　to　do　the　Saturday　shopping　on　his　way　home；　so　that　she　would　not　have　to　do　it；　in　which　case　he　would　buy　aturkey；　the　biggest　and　most　expensive　he　could　find；　and　several　pounds　of　coffee；　it　being　hisbelief　that　there　was　never　enough　in　the　house；　and　enough　breakfast　cereal　to　feed　an　army　for　amonth。　Such　foresight　always　filled　him　with　such　a　sense　of　his　own　virtue　that；　as　a　kind　ofreward；　he　would　also　buy　himself　a　bottle　of　whisky；　and—lest　she　should　think　that　he　wasdrinking　too　much—invite　some　ruffian　home　to　share　it　with　him。　Then　they　would　sit　allafternoon　in　her　parlor；　playing　cards　and　telling　indecent　jokes；　and　making　the　air　foul　withwhisky　and　smoke。　She　would　sit　in　the　kitchen；　cold　with　rage　and　staring　at　the　turkey；　which；since　Frank　always　bought　them　unplucked　and　with　the　head　on；　would　cost　her　hours　ofexasperating；　bloody　labor。　Then　she　would　wonder　what　on　earth　had　possessed　her　to　undergosuch　hard　trial　and　travel　so　far　from　home；　if　all　she　had　found　was　a　two…room　apartment　in　a　cityshe　did　not　like；　and　a　man　yet　more　childish　than　any　she　had　known　when　she　was　youngSometimes　from　the　parlor　where　he　and　his　visitor　sat　he　would　call　her：
　　‘Hey；　Flo！’
　　And　she　would　not　answer。　She　hated　to　be　called　‘Flo；’　but　he　never　remembered。　Hemight　call　her　again；　and　when　she　did　not　answer　he　would　e　into　the　kitchen。
　　‘What’s　the　matter　with　you；　girl？　Don’t　you　hear　me　a…calling　you？’
　　And　once　when　she　still　made　no　answer；　but　sat　perfectly　still；　watching　him　with　bittereyes；　he　was　forced　to　make　verbal　recognition　that　there　was　something　wrong。
　　‘What’s　the　matter；　old　lady？　You　mad　at　me？’
　　And　when　in　genuine　bewilderment　he　stared　at　her；　head　to　one　side；　the　faintest　of　smileson　his　face；　something　began　to　yield　in　her；　something　she　fought；　standing　up　and　snarling　at　himin　a　lowered　voice　so　that　the　visitor　might　not　hear：
　　‘I　wish　you’d　tell　me　just　how　you　think　we’s　going　to　live　all　week　on　a　turkey　and　fivepounds　of　coffee？’
　　‘Honey；　I　ain’t　bought　nothing　we　didn’t　need！’
　　She　sighed　in　helpless　fury；　and　felt　tears　springing　to　her　eyes。
　　‘I　done　told　you　time　and　again　to　give　me　the　money　when　you　get　paid；　and　let　me　do　theshopping—’cause　you　ain’t　got　the　sense　that　you　was　born　with。’
　　‘Baby；　I　wasn’t　doing　a　thing　in　the　world　but　trying　to　help　you　out。　I　thought　maybe　youwanted　to　go　somewhere　to…night　and　you　didn’t　want　to　be　bothered　with　no　shopping。’
　　‘Next　time　you　want　to　do　me　a　favor；　you　tell　me　first；　you　hear？　And　how　you　expect　meto　go　to　a　show　when　you　done　brought　this　bird　home　for　me　to　clean？’
　　‘Honey；　I’ll　clean　it。　It　don’t　take　no　time　at　all。’
　　He　moved　to　the　table　where　the　turkey　lay　and　looked　at　it　critically；　as　though　he　wereseeing　it　for　the　first　time。　Then　he　looked　at　her　and　ginned。　‘That　ain’t　nothing　to　get　mad　about。’
　　　She　began　to　cry。　‘I　declare　I　don’t　know　what　gets　into　you。　Every　week　the　Lord　sendsyou　go　out　and　do　some　foolishness。　How　do　you　expect　us　to　get　enough　money　to　get　away　fromhere　if　you　all　the　time　going　to　be　spending　your　money　on　foolishness？’
　　When　she　cried；　he　tried　to　fort　her；　putting　his　great　hand　on　her　shoulder　and　kissingher　where　the　tears　fell。
　　‘Baby；　I’m　sorry。　I　thought　it’d　be　a　nice　surprise。’
　　‘The　only　surprise　I　want　from　you　is　to　learn　some　sense！　That’d　be　a　surprise！　You　thinkI　want　to　stay　around　here　the　rest　of　my　life　with　these　dirty　niggers　you　al　the　time　bring　home？’
　　‘Where　you　expect　us　to　live；　honey；　where　we　ain’t　going　to　be　with　niggers？’
　　Then　she　turned　away；　looking　out　of　the　kitchen　window。　It　faced　an　elevated　train　thatpassed　so　close　she　always　felt　that　she　might　spit　in　the　faces　of　the　flying；　staring　people。
　　‘I　just　don’t　like　all　that　ragtag　…　looks　like　you　think　so　much　of。’
　　Then　there　was　silence。　Although　she　had　turned　her　back　to　him；　she　felt　that　he　was　nolonger　smiling　and　that　his　eyes；　watching　her；　had　darkened。
　　‘And　what　kind　of　man　you　think　you　married？’
　　‘I　thought　I　married　a　man　with　some　get　up　and　go　to　him；　who　didn’t　just　want　to　stay　onthe　bottom　all　his　life！’
　　‘And　what　you　want　me　to　me　to　do；　Florence？　You　want　me　to　turn　white？’
　　This　question　always　filled　her　with　an　ecstasy　of　hatred。　She　turned　and　faced　him；　and；forgetting　that　there　was　someone　sitting　in　the　parlor；　shouted：
　　‘You　ain’t　got　to　be　white　to　have　some　self…respect！　You　reckon　I　slave　in　this　house　like　Ido　so　you　and　them　mon　niggers　can　sit　here　every　afternoon　throwing　ashes　all　over　thefloor？’
　　‘And　who’s　mon　now；　Florence？’　he　asked；　quietly；　in　the　immediate　and　awful　silencein　which　she　recognized　her　error。　‘Who’s　acting　like　a　mon　nigger　now？　What　you　reckon　myfriend　is　sitting　there　a…thinking？　I　declare；　I　wouldn’t　be　surprise　none　if　he　wasn’t　a…thinking：
　　“Poor　Frank；　he　sure　found　him　a　mon　wife。”　Anyway；　he　ain’t　putting　his　ashes　on　the　floor—he　putting　them　in　the　ashtray；　just　like　he　knew　what　a　ashtray　was。’　She　knew　that　she　had　hurthim；　and　that　he　was　angry；　by　the　habit　he　had　at　such　a　moment　of　running　his　tongue　quicklyand　incessantly　over　his　lower　lip。　‘But　we’s　a…going　now；　so　you　can　sweep　up　the　parlor　and　sitthere；　if　you　want　to；　till　the　judgment　day。’
　　And　he　left　the　kitchen。　She　heard　murmurs　in　the　parlor；　and　then　the　slamming　of　thedoor。　She　remembered；　too　late；　that　he　had　all　his　money　with　him。　When　he　came　back；　longafter　nightfall；　and　she　put　him　to　bed　and　went　through　his　pockets；　she　found　nothing；　or　almostnothing；　and　she　sank　helplessly　to　the　parlor　floor　and　cried。
　　When　he　came　back　at　times　like　this　he　would　be　petulant　and　penitent。　She　would　notcreep　into　bed　until　she　thought　that　he　was　sleeping。　But　he　would　not　be　sleeping。　He　would　turn　as　she　stretched　her　legs　beneath　the　blankets；　and　his　arm　would　reach　out；　and　his　breath　wouldbe　hot　and　sour…sweet　in　her　face。
　　‘Sugar…plum；　what　you　want　to　be　so　evil　with　your　baby　for？　Don’t　you　know　you　donemade　me　go　out　and　get　drunk；　and　I　wasn’t　a…fixing　to　do　that？　I　wanted　to　take　you　outsomewhere　to…night。’　And；　while　he　spoke；　his　hand　was　on　her　breast；　and　his　moving　lipsbrushed　her　neck。　And　this　caused　such　a　war　in　her　as　could　scarcely　be　endured。　She　felt　thateverything　in　existence　between　them　was　part　of　a　mighty　plan　for　her　humiliation。　She　did　notwant　his　touch；　and　yet　she　did：　she　burned　with　longing　and　froze　with　rage。　And　she　felt　that　heknew　this　and　inwardly　smile　to　see　how　easily；　on　this　part　of　the　battlefield；　his　victory　could　beassured。　But　at　the　same　time　she　felt　that　his　tenderness；　his　passion；　and　his　love　were　real。
　　‘Let　me　alone；　Frank。　I　want　to　go　to　sleep。’
　　‘No　you　don’t。　You　don’t　want　to　go　to　sleep　so　soon。　You　want　me　to　talk　to　you　a　little。
　　You　know　how　your　baby　loves　to　talk。　Listen。’　And　he　brushed　her　neck　lightly　with　his　tongue。
　　‘You　hear　that？’
　　He　waited。　She　was　silent。
　　‘Ain’t　you　got　nothing　more　to　say　than　that？　I　better　tell　you　something　else。’　And　then　hecovered　her　face　with　kisses；　her　face；　neck；　arms；　and　breasts。
　　‘You　stink　of　whisky。　Let　me　alone。’
　　‘Ah。　I　ain’t　the　only　one　got　a　tongue。　What　you　got　to　say　to　this？　And　his　hand　strokedthe　inside　of　her　thigh。
　　‘Stop。’
　　‘I　ain’t　going　to　stop。　This　is　sweet　talk；　baby。’
　　Ten　years。　Their　battle　never　ended；　they　never　bought　a　home。　He　died　in　France。　To…night　sheremembered　details　of　those　years　which　she　thought　she　had　forgotten；　and　at　last　she　felt　thestony　ground　of　her　heart　break　up；　and　tears；　as　difficult　and　slow　as　blood；　began　to　tricklethrough　her　fingers。　This　the　old　woman　above　her　somehow　divined；　and　she　cried：　‘Yes；　honey。
　　You　just　let　go；　honey。　Let　Him　bring　you　low　so　He　can　raise　you　up。’　And　was　this　the　way　sheshould　have　gone？　Had　she　been　wrong　to　fight　so　hard？　Now　she　was　an　old　woman；　and　allalone；　and　she　was　going　to　die。　And　she　had　nothing　for　all　her　battles。　It　had　all　e　to　this：　shewas　on　her　face　before　the　altar；　crying　to　God　for　mercy。　Behind　her　she　heard　Gabriel　cry：　‘Blessyour　name；　Jesus！’　and；　thinking　of　him　and　the　high　road　of　holiness　he　had　traveled；　her　mindswung　like　a　needle；　and　she　thought　of　Deborah。
　　Deborah　had　written　her；　not　many　times；　but　in　a　rhythm　that　seemed　to　remark　each　crisisin　her　life　with　Gabriel；　and　once；　during　the　time　she　and　Frank　were　still　together；　she　hadreceived　from　Deborah　a　letter　that　she　had　still：　it　was　locked　to…night　in　her　handbag；　which　layon　the　altar。　She　had　always　meant　to　show　this　letter　to　Gabriel　one　day；　but　she　never　had。　Shehad　talked　with　Frank　about　it　late　one　night　while　he　lay　in　bed　whistling　some　ragtag　tune　and　she　sat　before　the　mirror　and　rubbed　bleaching　cream　into　her　skin。　The　letter　lay　open　before　herand　she　sighed　loudly；　to　attract　Frank’s　attention。
　　He　stopped　whistling　in　the　middle　of　a　phrase；　mentally；　she　finished　it。　‘What　you　gotthere；　sugar？’　he　asked；　lazily。
　　‘It’s　a　letter　from　my　brother’s　wife。’　She　stared　at　her　face　in　the　mirror；　thinking　angrilythat　all　these　skin　creams　were　a　waste　of　money；　they　never　did　any　good。
　　‘What’s　them　niggers　doing　down　home？　It　ain’t　no　bad　news；　is　it？　Still　he　hummed；irrepressibly；　deep　in　his　throat。
　　‘No　…　well；　it　ain’t　no　good　news　neither；　but　it　ain’t　nothing　to　surprise　me　none。　She　saysshe　think　my　brother’s　got　a　bastard　living　right　there　in　the　same　town　what　he’s　scared　to　call　hisown。’
　　‘No？　And　I　thought　you　said　you　brother　was　a　preacher。’
　　‘Being　a　preacher　ain’t　never　stopped　a　nigger　from　doing　his　dirt。’
　　Then　he　laughed。　‘You　sure　don’t　love　your　brother　like　you　should。　How　e　his　wifefound　out　about　this　kid？’
　　She　picked　up　the　letter　and　turned　to　face　him。　‘Sound　to　me　like　she　been　knowing　aboutit　but　she　ain’t　never　had　the　nerve　to　say　nothing。’　She　paused；　then　added；　reluctantly：　‘Ofcourse；　she　ain’t　really　what　you　might　call　sure。　But　she　ain’t　a　woman　to　go　around　thinkingthings。　She　mighty　worried。’
　　‘Hell；　what　she　worried　about　it　now　for？　Can’t　nothing　be　done　about　it　now。
　　‘She　wonder　if　she　ought　to　ask　him　about　it。’
　　‘And　do　she　reckon　if　she　ask　him；　he　going　to　be　fool　enough　to　say　yes？’
　　She　sighed　again；　more　genuinely　this　time；　and　turned　back　to　the　mirror。　‘Well　…　he’s　apreacher。　And　if　Deborah’s　right；　he　ain’t　got　not　right　to　be　a　preacher。　He　ain’t　no　better’nnobody　else。　In　fact；　he　ain’t　no　better　than　a　murderer。’
　　He　had　begun　to　whistle　again；　he　stopped。　‘Murderer？　How　so？’
　　‘Because　he　done　let　this　child’s　mother　go　off　and　die　when　the　child　was　born。　That’show　so。’　She　paused。　‘And　it　sounds　just　like　Gabriel。　He　ain’t　never　thought　a　minute　aboutnobody　in　this　world　but　himself。’
　　He　said　nothing；　watching　her　implacable　back。　Then：　‘You　going　to　answer　this　letter？’
　　‘I　reckon。’
　　‘And　what　you　going　to　say？’
　　‘I’m　going　to　tell　her　she　ought　to　let　him　know　she　know　about　his　wickedness。　Get　up　infront　of　the　congregation　and　tell　them　too；