l sullen, uncommunicative, her head down.

He limped swiftly to the door, left the room and went to the front part
of the house. He paced the length of the living room several times, his
fists clenched, his protuberant lip grown heavier.

He called to Mattie, who was in the kitchen.

"I wish," he directed, "you'd go down to Sterrett's and get a dozen
oranges."

"Yes, suh. Right now, Mistuh Bristow?"

"Yes; hurry. I want some orangeade."

He returned to the bedroom and closed the door. Lucy was bent forward on
the chair, moaning.

"Stop that!" he said, feeling now that he had himself and her under
control. "If you don't stop, you'll have something real to sniffle about
before I'm through with you! Now begin. What about Perry last Monday
night?"

"Please, suh," she changed her tone, "lemme go. I ain' got nothin' to
say. I feels like I might say somethin' dat ain' so. I'se kinder skeered
you might make me say somethin' whut I don' mean to say."

Moving deliberately, a fine, little tremor in his fingers, he took off
his coat and vest and hung them on the back of a chair. He had just
noticed that it was warm and close in the shut-up room. There was a
ringing in his ears. He kept repeating to himself that, if he lost his
temper, she would never become communicative.

He began all over again, patient, persistent----

When Mattie came back with the oranges, she met Lucy just outside the
kitchen door. There were no tears in the Thomas woman's eyes, but she
seemed greatly distressed.

"Whut'd he want offen you?" Mattie asked, with the negro's usual
curiosity.

"Nothin' much," replied the other, looking blankly out across Mattie's
shoulder. "He jes' axed me whut I knowd 'bout Perry dat night."

"I tole you dar warn't nothin' to be skeered uv him foh," said Mattie.
"Some uv you niggers ain' got no sense."

"Yas; dat's so," Lucy agreed dully, and walked slowly away.

She moved as if she felt that there was something frightful behind her.
When she was half-way home, she broke into a run, and, moaning, ran the
remainder of the distance. She threw herself on her bed and sobbed a long
time.

She had talked, and for the present she thought she felt more sorry for
Perry than she did for herself.

In the meantime, Bristow had gone into the bathroom to wash his hands.

"Pah!" he exclaimed, disgusted.

He dried his hands and walked, whistling, out to the living room. No
matter how distasteful the scene with the sull