"Where?"
"Home. N'Orleans. M' mother died, Hattie, God rest her bones. Know it?"
"No."
"Cancer."
It was a peculiar silence. A terrible word like that was almost slowly soluble in it. Gurgling down.
"O-oh!"
"Sort of gives a fellow the shivers, Hattie, seeing you kinda hidin' behind yourself like this. But I saw you come in the theater to-night. You looked right natural. Little heavier."
"What do you want?"
"Why, I guess a good many things in general and nothing in particular, as the sayin' goes. You don't seem right glad to see me, honey."
"Glad!" said Hattie, and laughed as if her mirth were a dice shaking in a box of echoes.