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Show page 173 was leaving the Shelton g i r l to return to his room. "Ben! Ben!" Annie was at the front door, taut from waiting but drunkenly joyful. "Ben, I brought in a s c u t t l e of coal for you. I ' l l make you a f i r e . Ben, y o u ' l l have a f i r e in your room every night, boy." Holder was sweating. He sniffed, caught the whey-sour smell of gin. "Ben, Ben, don't you go t o work at the prison, boy! Don't you do i t , Ben!" Her voice was high, screechy, flowing out into the street and the alley, causing nesting birds to f l u t t e r . "You hear, Ben!" She clawed at his sleeve, pulled him into the parlor, "You hungry, Ben?" Holder was too p o l i t e to refuse. Annie again piled a l l the crammings of the icebox upon the dining table - things in wax paper that had not seen light in months; sausages moldy and shrunken, with grease upon them like Arctic icecaps; vegetables unrecognizable; milk sour and clabbered; a doughnut harder than marble. "Eat boy, i t ' s good food, well cooked. Ah, my Billy could put i t away. Here, Ben, hold your p l a t e ." Darker night crept upon the windows of the room. Stale, sickening odors of the food were everywhere. Grease stuck to Annie's chin in cold l i t t l e p e l l e t s , f a l l i n g to the floor as she wrestled further with a roast bone. She gnawed, chewed, tore, while watching Holder with flashing eyes. Holder ate l i t t l e , stared at the t^*6Te. He wanted tb\ leave but had been taught to remain |
