He felt relieved and glad at this sudden
turn to the affair.
With a quick upward snap of his knees into the stomach of the man who
had held him McGregor freed himself. A swinging blow to the neck sent
his assailant groaning to the floor. McGregor sprang across the room.
In the corner by the bed he caught the woman. Clutching her by the
hair he whirled her about. "Hand over that money," he said fiercely.
The woman put up her hands and plead with him. The grip of his hands
in her hair brought the tears to her eyes. She thrust the roll of
bills into his hands and waited, trembling, thinking he intended to
kill her.
A new feeling swept over McGregor. The thought of having come into the
house at the invitation of this woman was revolting to him. He
wondered how he could have been such a beast. As he stood in the dim
light thinking of this and looking at the woman he became lost in
thought and wondered why the idea given him by the barber, that had
seemed so clear and sensible, now seemed so foolish. His eyes stared
at the woman as his mind returned to the black-bearded barber talking
on the park bench and he was seized with a blind fury, a fury not
directed at the people in the foul little room but at himself and his
own blindness. Again a great hatred of the disorder of life took hold
of him and as though all of the disorderly people of the world were
personified in her he swore and shook the woman as a dog might have
shaken a foul rag.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103