She stood glaring up at them, her breath coming fast and shallow, in a half-crouch that led Charley Mason to wonder if she planned to climb right over the porch rail and lace into them physically.
Then, as they watched in wary silence, her anger seemed to abate a little; over a period of five seconds her fists slowly unclenched, her breath slowed, she straightened.
She said in a low voice, "It's the work of the Devil. Anger is not the answer."
"The Devil, ma'am?" Charley asked.
"He has made you do this—it is a device to keep lewd and licentious thoughts uppermost in your minds and corrupt your immortal souls. I suppose I shouldn't blame you for listening to him ... so few of us are able to resist his honeyed mouthings."
"Ma'am," Luke said, "I don't think you should get so excited on a hot day like this. Maybe a cold coke—"
"I'll pray," the fat lady said. "I'll pray for the Lord to undo this Devil's work. I'll pray that your souls be cleansed of the evil thoughts the Dark One has put there." Her pale blue eyes seemed a trifle fixed, and now she smiled, looking through the men who watched her worriedly. "I—I'm almost proud that I should have suffered this humiliation in order to help Him in His work—it is a small price to pay, to have been the object of your lustful thoughts, if I can save your souls by telling the Lord what you are doing and seeing to it that He stops you!"
She gave them a pitying, sympathetic look. "You hate me now," she said, "but when you are pure you will thank me."
She turned away and walked toward her car, head bowed.