"It's that——" he commenced.
She cut him short, almost angrily.
"It isn't that with me," she whispered.
He lifted the tin pail that contained a small bottle of coffee and some sandwiches. He started for the door, but she ran after him, dragging at his arm.
"Don't go! I'm afraid!"
The child was quiet now, staring at them with round, reflective eyes.
"Joe," Tolliver said gently, "will be sore if I don't relieve him on time."
She pressed her head against his coat and clung tighter. He closed his eyes.
"You're afraid of Joe," he said wearily.
Without looking up, she nodded. Her voice was muffled.