She led the way into the queer little kitchen, which was also unchanged except for the fading of the curtains, and the introduction of one or two new books on the shelves. Alice pulled forward his old chair, and sat down opposite him on the settle. She wore one of her long wrapper-pinafores, this time of a warm clay-colour, which seemed to put a glow into her cheeks.
"Well, Alice," he said huskily.
"Well, Reuben, I'm glad to see you."
"You've heard?"
She nodded. Then she said gently:
"Poor Rose."
Reuben flushed.
"One o' my victims, eh?"
"Well, I knew you'd rather I said that than 'poor Reuben.'"
"Reckon I would. I remember as how you wur always trying to make out as my lazy good-fur-naun sons wur my victims, and as how I'd sacrificed them all to my farm; now I reckon you're trying to do the same wud Rose."