“You did? Oh, how wonderful!” She stood erect, breathing fast, her eyes glowing with mingled joy and impatience. She had not caught the significance of Mullarky’s picturesque past tense, “knowed;” but when he repeated it, with just a slight emphasis:
“I knowed him, ma’am,” she drew a quick, full breath and her face whitened.
“You knew him,” she said slowly. “Does that mean——”
Mullarky scratched his head and looked downward, not meeting her eyes.
“Squint Taylor would tell you the story, ma’am,” he said. “You see, ma’am, he worked for Squint, an’ Squint was with him when it happened.”
“He’s dead, then?” She stood rigid, tense, searching Mullarky’s face with wide, dreading eyes, and when she saw his gaze shift under hers she drew a deep sigh and leaned against Billy, covering her face with her hands.
Mullarky did not attempt to disturb her; he stood, looking glumly at her, reproaching himself for his awkwardness in breaking the news to her.
It was some minutes before she faced him again, and then she was pale and composed, except for the haunting sadness that had come into her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said. “Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Taylor—‘Squint,’ you called him? Is that the Taylor who was elected mayor—last week?”
“The same, ma’am.” He turned and pointed southward, into the big, level country that she admired so much.