Gibbs was so used to this talk of reform that it passed him idly by, and he only laughed. She leaned her cheek against her hand; with the other hand she twisted and untwisted the metal snake. Presently she sighed unconsciously.
"What are you going to do now?" Gibbs asked presently.
"I'm going to stay here in town till I see this woman."
"But you can't do any work here."
"I don't want to do any work, I tell you."
"How'll you live?"
"Live!" she said scornfully. "I don't care how; I don't care if I have to carry the banner--I'll get a bowl of sky-blue once in a while--and I'll wash dishes--anything!" She struck the table, and Gibbs's eyes fastened on her white, plump little fist as it lay there; then he laughed, thinking of it in a dish-pan, where it had never been.
"Well, I'll do it!" she persisted, reading his thought and hastily withdrawing the fist. "I'm going to get him!" She looked at Gibbs for emphasis.
"Jane," he said quietly, "you want to cut that out. This is no place for you now--this town's getting on the bum; they've put it to the bad. It's time to rip it. This rapper--"
"Oh, yes, I've heard--what's this his name is now?"