But I must get up and get you something to eat.

You must eat.

I brought you up when you were a little one,"-- her voice capsizes--"I've given up all for you, and you treat me as if I were an adventuress." I hear the sound of her skinny feet as she plants them successively on the floor, like two boxes.

She is seeking her things, scattered over the bed or slipped to the floor; she is swallowing sobs.

Now she is upright, shapeless in the shadow, but from time to time I see her remarkable leanness outlined.