"G'long, man, what is it?"
He took courage:
"I got ter 'fess ter you, m'am, dat I'se tangled up wid annuder 'oman!"
The black face suddenly flashed with wrath, and her figure was electric with battle. The very pores of her dusky skin seemed to radiate war.
"Who bin tryin' ter steal you?" she cried. "Des sho' her ter me, an' we see who's who!"
Andy waved his hands in a conciliatory self-accusing gesture:
"Yassam—yassam! But I make er fool outen myse'f about her—hit's Miss Cleo!"
"Cleo!" Minerva gasped, staggering back until her form collided with the table and rattled the glasses on the tray. At the sound of the tinkling glass, she turned, grasped a mint julep, and drank the whole of it at a single effort.
Andy, who had been working on a figure in the rug with the toe of his shoe during his confession, looked up, saw that she had captured his inspiration, and sprang back in alarm.
Minerva paused but a moment for breath and rushed for him: