One night when I've been there more'n a week, and am getting kind o' tired staying in one place so long, I don't want to go to bed after I eats, and I gets a-holt of some of the perfessor's cigars and goes into the lib'ary to see if he's got anything fit to read. Setting there thinking of the awful remarkable people they is in this world I must of went to sleep. Purty soon, in my sleep, I hearn two voices. Then I waked up sudden, and still hearn 'em, low and quicklike, in the room that opens right off of the lib'ary with a couple of them sliding doors like is onto a box car. One voice was a woman's voice, and it wasn't Miss Estelle's. “But I _must_ see them before we go, Henry,” she says. And the other was a man's voice and it wasn't no one around our house. “But, my God,” he says, “suppose you get it yourself, Jane!” I set up straight then, fur Jane was the perfessor's wife's first name. “You mean suppose _you_ get it,” she says. I like to of seen the look she must of give him to fit in with the way she says that _you_. He didn't say nothing, the man didn't; and then her voice softens down some, and she says, low and slow: “Henry, wouldn't you love me if I _did_ get it? Suppose it marked and pitted me all up?” “Oh, of course,” he says, “of course I would. Nothing can change the way I feel. _You_ know that.” He said it quick enough, all right, jest the way they does in a show, but it sounded _too much_ like it does on the stage to of suited me if _I_'d been her. I seen folks overdo them little talks before this. I listens some more, and then I sees how it is. This is that musician feller Biddy Malone's been talking about. Jane's going to run off with him all right, but she's got to kiss the kids first. Women is like that. They may hate the kids' pa all right, but they's dad-burned few of 'em don't like the kids. I thinks to myself: “It must be late. I bet they was already started, or ready to start, and she made him bring her here first so's she could sneak in and see the kids. She jest simply couldn't get by. But she's taking a fool risk, too. Fur how's she going to see Margery with that nurse coming and going and hanging around all night? And even if she tries jest to see William Dear it's a ten to one shot he'll wake up and she'll be ketched at it.” And then I thinks, suppose she _is_ ketched at it? What of it? Ain't a woman got a right to come into her own house with her own door key, even if they is a quarantine onto it, and see her kids? And if she is ketched seeing them, how would any one know she was going to run off? And ain't she got a right to have a friend of hern and her husband's bring her over from her mother's house, even if it is a little late?