Yes, he's defending a poor old grandpa who is victim of a landlord. He's going to invoke the rent laws. Naturally, she added, he won't get a cent.
Poor Howard! He's had such a time getting started.
I don't mean maybe! He's got guts, though. Sometimes I wonder how he can stick it out.
They all have to begin. Doctors and lawyers can't advertise: it isn't considered professional.
I know, but look at George's practice.
Well, there aren't so many good dentists.
Not so many good-looking ones, at any rate.
They ate in silence for a time.
Where did you hear about Howard? Mary inquired.
He telephoned me. . . . Mary was aware of a curious clang-tint in Olive's voice. . . . Saw Sergia Sawyer at George's.
You must have picked up a lot of gossip.
She talked as fast as her tongue would wag. Said Buda Green's going to marry that Mr. Eddie.
He doesn't know?
And nobody's going to tell him. It's funny, Olive went on, as she poured the rich chicken gravy over her mashed potatoes, how we love to fool white people.
Of course, she said, you can understand those cotton-picking jigs in the South; they've had to put up with centuries of deceit and treachery on the part of the ofays, but we—people like you and me—are
