The Sheriff advanced with an amiable smile. He was so surprised.
“Why, you here, Mary! When did you come?” His tone was affable and even testified pleasure. But Mary did not unbend. She was as stiff as the chair she sat in. Without turning her head she turned her eyes and looked at him sideways.
“Mrs. Creel.”
There was a glint in her black eyes that meant war, and Thompson's countenance fell.
“Ah-ur-Mrs. Creel.”
“I did n't know as you 'd know me!” She spoke quietly, her eyes still on him sidewise.
“Not know you! Why, of course, I know you. I don't forget the pretty girls—leastways, the prettiest girl in the county. Your father and I———”
“I heard you made a mistake about my husband and Jim Turkle. I thought maybe you might think I was Mrs. Turkle.”
There was the least perceptible lifting of her shoulders and drawing down of her mouth, but quite enough to suggest Jenny Turkle 's high shoulders and grim face.
The Sheriff tried to lighten the conversation.