And whether
he would or no, Gurney received from his hysterical patient a variety
of pungent information which would have staggered anybody but a family
physician. Among other things he was given to comprehend the change
in Bibbs, and why the zinc-eater was not putting a lump in the
operator's gizzard as of yore.
Sibyl was not delirious--she was a thin little ego writhing and
shrieking in pain. Life had hurt her, and had driven her into hurting
herself; her condition was only the adult's terrible exaggeration
of that of a child after a bad bruise--there must be screaming and
telling mother all about the hurt and how it happened. Sibyl babbled
herself hoarse when Gurney withheld morphine. She went from the
beginning to the end in a breath. No protest stopped her; nothing
stopped her.
"You ought to let me die!" she wailed. "It's cruel not to let me die!
What harm have I ever done to anybody that you want to keep me alive?
Just look at my life! I only married Roscoe to get away from home,
and look what that got me into!--look where I am now! He brought me
to this town, and what did I have in my life but his FAMILY? And they
didn't even know the right crowd! If they had, it might have been
SOMETHING! I had nothing--nothing--nothing in the world! I wanted
to have a good time--and how could I? Where's any good time among
these Sheridans? They never even had wine on the table! I thought
I was marrying into a rich family where I'd meet attractive people
I'd read about, and travel, and go to dances--and, oh, my Lord! all
I got was these Sheridans! I did the best I could; I did, indeed!
Oh, I DID! I just tried to live.
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