back an' forth to tell him about it, givin' 'em his dirty dollars!"
Helen's face showed amazement through its weariness.
"I told 'em both to go, but he won't. He made that there Rowe go out and set in th' car in th' rain. He's mad at him, called him awful names! I tried to make him go, too, but he just said he'd go when you come. You'd better send him away, Helen; he makes me uneasy!"
The girl opened the door and looked into the other room. It was dark, like the last of evening twilight. Lightning played through the damp shadows and the roar of rain was terrific. Luke Taylor was in the chair she had drawn out for him that morning. He seemed more shrunken, more feeble as he sat far down on his spine, knees bent sharply. He was not aware that she was there until she stood beside him; then his hands which had been tapping the chair arms stopped upraised. The girl did not speak and Luke rose slowly, peering close into her face as a protracted flicker of lightning showed it in sharp relief.
"That old she-devil tried to drive me out," he said. "Maybe I've got something like that coming, but I wouldn't go—not for her. I've turned hell loose on you, I guess. From what I hear you've got a long story to listen to." He paused and his lips worked.
"You're full of moonshine," he rasped. "This is all damned nonsense, but you're makin' a go of it! You ain't got brass or cheek, like I said—just nerve—nerve!" He paused once more and still she did not speak.
"That matter you spoke to me about, that money you need—it's all nonsense, all moonshine! When you got to have it?"
