Sanctuary

"Hush," Goodwin said. "There's no lock on it. Push it."

"Sure," Van said; "I'll push it." He kicked it. The chair buckled and

sprang into the room. Van banged the door open and they entered, carrying

Gowan's legs. Van kicked the chair across the room. Then he saw Temple

standing in the corner behind the bed. His hair was broken about his face,

long as a girl's. He flung it back with a toss of his head. His chin was

bloody and he deliberately spat blood onto the floor.

"Go on," Goodwin said, carrying Gowan's shoulders, "put him on the bed."

They swung Gowan onto the bed. His bloody head lolled over the edge. Van

jerked him over and slammed him onto the mattress. He groaned, lifting his

hand. Van struck him across the face with his palm.

"Lie still, you-"

"Let be," Goodwin said. He caught Van's hand. For an instant they glared at

one another.

"I said, Let be," Goodwin said. "Get out of here."

"Got proteck . . ." Gowan mutteredgirl. 'Ginia gem

. . . gernman got proteck . - ."

"Get out of here, now," Goodwin said.

The woman stood in the door beside Tommy, her back

44 WILLIAM FAULKNER

against the door frame. Beneath a cheap coat her night-dress dropped to her

feet.

Van lifted Temple's dress from the bed. "Van," Goodwin said. "I said get

out."

"I heard you," Van said. He shook the dress out. Then he looked at Temple

in the corner, her arms crossed, her hands clutching her shoulders. Goodwin

moved toward Van. He dropped the dress and went around the bed. Popeye came

in the door, a cigarette in his fingers. Beside the woman Tommy drew his

breath hissing through his ragged teeth.

He saw Van take hold of the raincoat upon Temple's breast and rip it open.

Then Goodwin sprang between them; he saw Van duck, whirling, and Temple

fumbling at the torn raincoat. Van and Goodwin were now in the middle of

the floor, swinging at one another, then he was watching Popeye walking

toward Temple. With the corner of his eye he saw Van lying on the floor and

Goodwin standing over him, stooped a little, watching Popeye's back.

"Popeye," Goodwin said. Popeye went on, the cigarette trailing back over

his shoulder, his head turned a little as though he were not looking where

he was going, the cigarette slanted as though his mouth were somewhere

under the turn of his jaw. "Don't touch her," Goodwin said.

Popeye stopped before Temple, his face turned a little aside. His right

hand lay in his coat pocket. Beneath the raincoat on Temple's breast Tommy

could see the movement of the other hand, communicating a shadow of

movement to the coat.

"Take your hand away," Goodwin said. "Move it."

Popeye moved his hand. He turned, his hands in his coat pockets, looking at

Goodwin. He crossed the room, watching Goodwin. Then he turned his back on

him and went out the door.

"Here, Tommy," Goodwin said quietly, "grab hold of this." They lifted Van

and carried him out. The woman stepped aside. She leaned against the wall,

holding her coat together. Across the room Temple stood crouched into the

comer, fumbling at the torn raincoat. Gowan began to snore.

Goodwin returned. "You'd better go back to bed," he said. The woman didn't

move. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Ruby. 11

"While you finish the trick Van started and you wouldn't let him finish?

You poor fool. You poor fool."

"Come on, now," he said, his hand on her shoulder. "Go back to bed."

"But dont come back. Dont bother to come back. I wont be there. You owe me

nothing. Dont think you do."

Goodwin took her wrists and drew them steadily apart.

SANCTUARY 45

Slowly and steadily he carried her hands around behind her and held them

in one of his. With the other hand he opened the coat. The nightdress was

of faded pink crepe, lacetrimmed, laundered and laundered until, like the

garment on the wire, the lace was a fibrous mass.

"Hah," he said. "Dressed for company."

"Whose fault is it if this is the only one I have? Whose fault is it? Not

mine. I've given them away to nigger maids after one night. But do you

think any nigger would take this and not laugh in my face?"

He let the coat fall to. He released her hands and she drew the coat

together. With his hand on her shoulder he began to push her toward the

door. "Go on," he said. Her shoulder gave. It alone moved, her body

turning on her hips, her face reverted, watching him. "Go on," he said.

But her torso alone turned, her hips and head still touching the wall.

He turned and crossed the room and went swiftly around the bed and caught

Temple by the front of the raincoat with one hand. He began to shake her.

Holding her up by the gathered wad of coat he shook her, her small body

clattering soundlessly inside the loose garment, her shoulders and thighs

thumping against the wall. "You little fool!" he said. "You little fool!"

Her eyes were quite wide, almost black, the lamplight on her face and two

tiny reflections of his face in her pupils like peas in two inkwells.

He released her. She began to sink to the floor, the raincoat rustling

about her. He caught her up and began to shake her again, looking over