Toomey’s answer was a jeering laugh of defiance, but when he came in and slammed the door behind him, she saw that his face was a sickly yellow and his shaking hand spilled the tobacco which he tried to pour upon a cigarette paper.
She waited a moment for an explanation but, since it was not forthcoming, asked anxiously:
“What’s the matter, Jap?”
He did not hear her.
“Who was it?”
“Teeters and Lingle.”
“The deputy sheriff?”
He nodded.
She came a little further into the room with her flour-covered hands.