be with niggers？’
Then she turned away； looking out of the kitchen window。 It faced an elevated train thatpassed so close she always felt that she might spit in the faces of the flying； staring people。
‘I just don’t like all that ragtag … looks like you think so much of。’
Then there was silence。 Although she had turned her back to him； she felt that he was nolonger smiling and that his eyes； watching her； had darkened。
‘And what kind of man you think you married？’
‘I thought I married a man with some get up and go to him； who didn’t just want to stay onthe bottom all his life！’
‘And what you want me to me to do； Florence？ You want me to turn white？’
This question always filled her with an ecstasy of hatred。 She turned and faced him； and；forgetting that there was someone sitting in the parlor； shouted：
‘You ain’t got to be white to have some self…respect！ You reckon I slave in this house like Ido so you and them mon niggers can sit here every afternoon throwing ashes all over thefloor？’
‘And who’s mon now； Florence？’ he asked； quietly； in the immediate and awful silencein which she recognized her error。 ‘Who’s acting like a mon nigger now？ What you reckon myfriend is sitting there a…thinking？ I declare； I wouldn’t be surprise none if he wasn’t a…thinking：
“Poor Frank； he sure found him a mon wife。” Anyway； he ain’t putting his ashes on the floor—he putting them in the ashtray； just like he knew what a ashtray was。’ She knew that she had hurthim； and that he was angry； by the habit he had at such a moment of running his tongue quicklyand incessantly over his lower lip。 ‘But we’s a…going now； so you can sweep up the parlor and sitthere； if you want to； till the judgment day。’
And he left the kitch