"Why--he--he pushed me backward and I must have hit something when I fell. The back of my head is very sore and my head aches terribly--and I'm a little sick at my stomach."
"Let me see your head," said Roger peremptorily. He parted the mass of bronze brown hair, wondering even in his anger and pity at its softness and thickness. It was not difficult to locate the great lump at the base of the skull.
"He might have killed you if it hadn't been for your hair. The skin isn't broken. Be still, Charley, till I get a basin of water and a towel."
He was back in a moment and sitting down on the edge of the couch, he attempted to bathe the swelling. But Charley groaned in agony at the first touch, so he gave that up and bathed her face and wrist awkwardly but very gently.
"I guess it's my turn to say 'Poor Child,'" Roger murmured.
The quick tears sprang to Charley's eyes. At this moment Dick gave an incoherent shout. Charley gripped Roger's hand.
"It's all right," he said. "He can't get out, the whelp!"
"Roger! Don't hurt him. Promise me you won't hurt him!"
"Hurt him!" Roger burst forth. "How can you be so foolish! He ought to be beaten within an inch of his life. He's gotten drunk on cologne!"
"Roger, he's never been this bad before. He's been growing slowly better all these years. He never struck me before."
"And you've been living with a drunkard all these years who might have killed you. You knew this, yet you let little Felicia come to you. How could you do it?" Roger paced up and down the floor.
Charley looked at him piteously, but he went on, his voice growing louder.
"You must know that a periodic drunkard is the worst kind and almost never cured. I thought you were unafraid of truth, but you've been living just like a sentimental woman, after all."
Charley raised her hands and dropped them as if in despair. "I promised mother I'd never leave him. And he's put up a fight. Oh, you'll never know what a fight! And I love him. He's a dear when he's not drinking."
Dick roared again and Roger stared at Charley's sick white face.
"Promise me you won't hurt him, Roger."
"How can I promise when I know if I get another glimpse of him I'll break every bone in his carcass?"
Again Charley dropped her hands with that despairing gesture. "Then how can I help fearing your dreadful temper as much as I do Dick's drinking? What difference is there?"