“You need somebody to love you,” she said. “Somebody to do for you, and love you.” The hawk face came nearer. He leaned a little toward it. But between it and his face was Ma Minick’s face, plump, patient, quizzical, kindly. His head came back sharply. He threw the woman’s hot hand from him.

“Woman!” he cried. “Jezebel!”

The front door slammed. Nettie. The woman flew to her sewing. Old man Minick, shaking, went into his kitchen bedroom.

“Well,” said Nettie, depositing her bundles on the dining room table, “did you finish that faggoting? Why, you haven’t done so very much, have you!”

“I ain’t feeling so good,” said the woman.