STUDS LONIGAN
a big blowout. He cried; well, he was so goddamn sore, he
couldn't help it.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself
I"
Fran said, stop-
ping in his doorway.
"Mind your own goddamn business
I"
"How dare you curse me
I"
she said, shocked.
"For Christ sake, shut your trap:"
She rushed into the parlor, and shrieked in a high-pitched
voice.
It
was like a nut-house now. He slipped into his old
lady's room, and copped five bucks from her pocket-book. He
got his rusty old gat from its hiding place at the bottom of his
closet. He put on his cap, and went to the bathroom. He saw
that his eyes were red from crying. He tried to hide the red–
ness with Fran's powder. He was ashamed of himself.
"My son . . . my son
I"
his mother muttered, trying to
block his path at the front door.
"I 'm going
I"
"Willi am, your father just lost his temper. Go in and tell
him you ' re sorry and.
"
"I can take care of myself
I"
he said, viciously slamming
the door.
" i
au don ' t know wh at you're doing to dad. Come back,"
Fran begged, pursuing him in the hallway.
"Take your lousy hands off me
I"
His parents called h!m from the window. He didn't look
at them. At the corner, he turned, and saw his old man coming
out of the building. He ran, ditching the old man by runn111g
through alleys and gangways.
23
