Octavia's comely face crimsoned angrily.
"A married woman—a wife—" she broke out with vehemence. But her father-in-law checked her by a motion of the hand.
"Yes, Callisty's quit Lance Cleaverage," agreed Ajax dryly. "An' she's come home. But I reckon she'll behave herself. Leastways, she will while she's in my house."
At the seeming implication, Octavia's fingers trembled in her lap, and she turned a wounded look upon Ajax.
"Well, Pappy! You' no call—" she was beginning, when Flenton, with a manner almost fawning, interrupted her.
"You don't rightly git my meaning, Mr. Gentry—nor you, neither, Miz. Gentry," he said humbly. "I've lived considerable in the Settlement. Down thar, when married people cain't git along, and quits each other, there's—there's ways—Down in the Settlement—"
He broke off under the disconcerting fire of Ajax's eye.
"Oh—one o' them thar di-vo'ces, you mean?" the old man said, strong distaste giving an edge to his deep voice.
"Well, they ain't a-goin' to be none sech between Lance and Callisty," Octavia protested indignantly. "If that's what you' hangin' around for, you'll have yo' trouble for yo' pains, 304 Flenton Hands." She got up sharply, went into the house, and shut the door, leaving the two men together.
Yet when she reviewed her daughter's conduct, her mind, ever alert to the interests of the erring Lance, misgave her. Callista seemed hard enough and cold enough for anything. Octavia heard the two masculine voices, questioning, replying, arguing. She had put herself beyond understanding the words they uttered, but presently feminine curiosity overcame her, and she was stealing back to listen, when, through the small window, she saw Flenton Hands get heavily to his feet. A moment he stood so, looking down, then, her head close to the sash, she heard him ask,