Page:Hell-Bent fer Heaven (Hughes 1924).pdf/162

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Have patience with him, Meg. We may snatch him like a brand from the burnin’ yit. On that day, Andy, the wicked ’ll be scattered like chaff afore a mighty wind, an’ there ’ll be weepin’ an’ gnashin’ o’ teeth! Selah!

Toot! Toot! Hurrah fer hell!

You blasphemer! David, why don’t you make him shet his mouth?

I know the lad too well to think I could break his sperit short o’ killin’ him. An’ I ain’t a-goin’ to do that tell I find out fer shore, no matter how hard he tries to make me. [He seats himself in the armchair, his gun across his knee.] Arter all, Meg, the Lord’s will’s too big a thing fer any one man to git a strangle hold on it. Rufe’s dead certain that God allus sees eye to eye ’ith him on every question. Fer all we know, God hisself may consider that more blasphemous ’n what Andy’s a-doin’.

[His face distorted with malignant rage, shakes his finger at ]