"Oh, I know all that has been done to you, Jean," she went on tenderly.
"Your words give me much relief, Mrs. Merley."
"I wish they could give you more. It is my wish that an opportunity could be given me to help you."
He straightened. Now was the time to state his mission. But she was speaking again:
"I spoke my sentiments to his face, the rascal! All his dirty life has been given to making people miserable, wherever he could."
Jean said nothing, but was listening nevertheless.
"He has been a rascal for thirty-five years, and has made that simple cousin of mine he married, the goat." She paused to get her breath. "I saw Orlean not long ago, and asked her where her will was, or if she had any."
He was attentive. Always he liked to hear her.
"She, of course, tried to stand up for that arch hypocrite. But I waived that aside. Said I to her: 'Orlean, I could never believe you if you said Jean Baptiste abused, mistreated or neglected you.' She looked down when I had spoken and then said evenly. 'No, Jean did not do any of those things,' 'Then,' said I. 'Why do you live apart from him, the man you married? Where is your sense of duty?' 'But, Mrs. Merley,' she tried to protest. 'I just couldn't live out there in that wilderness, it was too lonesome,' 'Oh, Orlean,' I said disgustingly, 'do you expect me to believe that? And if even I believed you, how could I respect you?'
"But that is it, Jean. Here is this family posing as among the best Negro families in Chicago, but with no more regard for what is morally right than the worst thief. Indeed, no thief would do what that man is doing."