Lite

She has a lover, that¨s why I¨m taking her
‘I’ve been here too long. I want to get away. My wife and I want to go west.’
‘Your wife does!’
‘Go on. He won’t annoy you. I think he realizes that his presumptuous little flirtation is over.’
‘I’ve got my wife locked in up there,’ explained Wilson calmly. ‘She’s going to stay there till the day after tomorrow and then we’re going to move away.’
‘Beat me!’ ‘Throw me down and beat me, you dirty little coward!’
They were gone, without a word, snapped out, made accidental, isolated, like ghosts even from our pity.
A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and shouting; before he could move from his door the business was over
My savior!
The ‘death car’ as the newspapers called it, didn’t stop; it came out of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment and then disappeared around the next bend. The other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick, dark blood with the dust.