“Can I have a wash fust?” he asked.
“Yes, and welcome.” Bringing him a basin of clear cold water and a towel, she had the pleasure of seeing some of the tawny hue disappear, and he seated himself and began to eat most heartily.
It was just after the war, and the city was full of homeless men, who roamed its streets, unable to find work, and actually living on charity. Some of them had no home to go to, and others could not raise the means to take them there.
“Pears like we wus whipped bad,” he said, between the mouthfuls.
She nodded an affirmative.
“I 'lowed General Forrest would help me to get back to Georgy. There's whar I belong.”
“Did you ask him?” The General was a resident of Memphis at that time.
“I went to see him about it, and he couldn't do nothing—said he had no money,” which was a fact, no doubt.
“I tell you, them cussed Yanks fit well. They had good pluck, after all.”
“I think they proved that,” she said faintly, her terror returning, for she saw he thought her a Southerner as well as himself, and she had misty visions of being strangled, the silly girl. “Oh,” she thought, “will Frank never come?”