He hiccoughed. “Let’s — let’s look at it,” he said, hiccoughing again.
“Go away!” she cried.
“Lemme — lemme look at it, lass.”
She smelled him of drink, felt the unequal pull of his swaying grasp on the back of her rocking-chair.
“Go away,” she said, and weakly she pushed him off.
He stood, uncertain in balance, gazing upon her. Summoning all her strength she rose, the baby on one arm. By a cruel effort of will, moving as if in sleep, she went across to the scullery, where she bathed her eye for a minute in cold water; but she was too dizzy. Afraid lest she should swoon, she returned to her rocking-chair, trembling in every fibre. By instinct, she kept the baby clasped.