“Yuh goin’?”
“I tell um—yes.”
After a while the woman reached out a hand and closed it lightly about the man’s arm. Under the sleeve she felt the muscles go rigid. What power! She tried to circle it with her hand. It was almost as big as Crown’s. It was strange that she had not noticed that before. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Presently she sighed, and withdrew her hand.
Through the immense emptiness of sea and sky the boat forged slowly toward the distant city’s lights.
§
“I gots er feelin’ yistuhday,” announced Maria to Serena Robbins, as she took a batch of wet clothing from the latter’s tub, gave it one twist with her enormous hands, and set it aside to go upon the line.
“Wut yuh gots er feelin’ ’bout?”
“I gots er feelin’ w’en Porgy ’oman come out de wood on de picnic, she done been wid Crown.”
At the mention of the murderer’s name Serena stepped back, and her usual expression of sanctimonious complacency slowly changed. Her lower lip shot forward, and her face darkened.
“Yuh t’ink dat nigger on Kittiwar?” she asked.