original size, and he was clinging desperately to the table to keep his head above the water of complete disgrace.
Malvina looked at the preacher, a pathetic appeal in her eyes, and the preacher turned to Smith.
"Why, Smith, she's divorced from you, regularly divorced," he said. "The requirements of the law have been met with; you have no claim on her whatever."
"Ain't I?" Zeb wanted to know, a darker threat than before in his attitude and word. He advanced to the foot of the table. "I'm a goin' to walk up the middle of that table and kick that crock of clabber between the eyes, then I'm a goin' to smash this joint to kindlin' and take that woman by the hair of the head and whip her through this town with a blacksnake! I'll show her how she can disgrace me and drag my name in the dirt!"
He made a move as if to set foot on the table. The guests at that end rose in panic, and retreated to the wall, where they stood looking at Smith, afraid of him, but their curiosity to know what he was going to do holding them there at the risk of his violence. The preacher went to him and tried to reason it out, making mention of the regularity of the proceedings, bearing down on the divorce.
"Divorce nothin'! I don't believe she ever got any divorce!" Zeb swore.
