Jeff did not move to one side, and Viles said hoarsely, “Get out of my way, you impudent fool!”
Jeff shook his head. “Listen, mister,” he said softly. “This is my house. You can’t come in here on your own say-so. I’m not fooling with you either. If you want to come in, you ask.”
Viles lifted one clenched hand as though to sweep the other aside; and Jeff added, “I’ve heard enough about you so I’d like right well to mix it up with you a little bit—if you want to try anything like that. Do you?”
“I want to come in,” said Viles hoarsely.
Jeff considered this for a moment, then he spoke to the woman, over his shoulder. “Do you want to see him?” he asked her.
“I suppose so,” she told him wearily.
Jeff nodded. “All right, mister,” he said to Viles. “Come in and take a chair.”
Viles had somewhat recovered himself. He followed Jeff’s indifferent back into the dining room. The woman did not rise. Jeff set a chair across the table from her, and Viles sat down in it while Jeff himself crossed to shut the door that led into the parlor, then came back and leaned against the kitchen door, watching this husband and wife, waiting for what they would say.
Viles had drawn a velvet glove over the iron hand. He asked the woman gently, “Are you all right, my dear?” She nodded. “You are well?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I am well.”