I said she will do that out of respect for her father.
I believed that, then. But I'm just a poor old woman; I was raised to believe that people would deny themselves for their own flesh and blood.
It's my fault.
You were right to reproach me."
"Do you think I need any man's help to stand on my feet?" I says. "Let alone a woman that cant name the father of her own child."
"Jason," she says.
"All right," I says. "I didn't mean that.
Of course not."
"If I believed that were possible, after all my suffering."
"Of course it's not," I says. "I didn't mean it."
"I hope that at least is spared me," she says.
"Sure it is," I says. "She's too much like both of them to doubt that."
"I couldn't bear that," she says.
"Then quit thinking about it," I says. "Has she been worrying you any more about getting out at night?"
"No.
I made her realise that it was for her own good and that she'd thank me for it some day.
She takes her books with her and studies after I lock the door.
I see the light on as late as eleven oclock some nights."
"How do you know she's studying?" I says.
"I dont know what else she'd do in there alone," she says. "She never did read any."
"No," I says. "You wouldn't know.
And you can thank your stars for that," I says.
Only what would be the use in saying it aloud.
It would just have her crying on me again.
I heard her go up stairs.
Then she called Quentin and Quentin says What? through the door.
"Goodnight," Mother says.
Then I heard the key in the lock, and Mother went back to her room.
When I finished my cigar and went up, the light was still on.
I could see the empty keyhole, but I couldn't hear a sound.
She studied quiet.
Maybe she learned that in school.
I told Mother goodnight and went on to my room and got the box out and counted it again.
I could hear the Great American Gelding snoring away like a planing mill.
I read somewhere they'd fix men that way to give them women's voices.
But maybe he didn't know what they'd done to him.
I dont reckon he even knew what he had been trying to do, or why Mr Burgess knocked him out with the fence picket.
And if they'd just sent him on to Jackson while he was under the ether, he'd never have known the difference.
But that would have been too simple for a Compson to think of.
Not half complex enough.
Having to wait to do it at all until he broke out and tried to run a little girl down on the street with her own father looking at him.
Well, like I say they never started soon enough with their cutting, and they quit too quick.
I know at least two more that needed something like that, and one of them not over a mile away, either.
But then I dont reckon even that would do any good.
Like I say once a bitch always a bitch.
And just let me have twenty-four hours without any dam New York jew to advise me what it's going to do.
I don't want to make a killing; save that to suck in the smart gamblers with.
I just want an even chance to get my money back.
And once I've done that they can bring all Beale street and all bedlam in here and two of them can sleep in my bed and another one can have my place at the table too.
April 8, 1928