“How’s that?” casually.
“She—” with a shrug—“well, she isn’t up to much.”
Prentiss stirred slightly.
“No?”
Toomey detected interest and lowered his voice.
Prentiss sat quite still—the stillness of a man who takes a shock in that way.
“They call her the 'Sheep Queen,' but we Old Timers know her as 'Mormon Joe’s Kate.' She shipped a while back, and just come home all dolled up. Made a little money, no doubt, but any pinhead could do that, the way prices are. She’ll never get ‘in,’ though.”
“‘In’ where?”
“In society. For a little burg,” with pride, “you’d be surprised to know how exclusive they are here.” The speech showed what, among other things, the years in Prouty had done to Toomey.