"And—afterwards"——
"Den I'll go back to de good brown earth wid her," said Flor, solving the problem promptly.—"I doan' see de boat."
"Ah, she'll make as brown dust as you,—Miss Emma,—that's so! But the spirit, Lome!"
"Sperit?" said Flor, looking uneasily over her shoulder with her twinkling eyes.
"The part of you that doan' die, Lome."
"I haan' nof'n ter do wid dat; dat 'longs to dem as made it; none o' my lookout; dono nof'n 'bout it, an' doan' want ter hear nof'n about it!" said Flor; for, reasoning on the old adage of a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush, she thought it more important just at present to save her body than to save her soul, admitting that she had one, and felt haste to be of more behoof than metaphysics.
There was a moon up now, and Flor could see her companion's dark face above her, a mere mass of shade; it did not reassure her any to remember that her own was just as black.
"Lome," said Sarp, setting his back against a tree like one determined to have attention, "never mind about the boat yet. You 've heard Aunt Zoë say how't the grace of the Lord was free?"
"Yes, I's heerd her kerwhoopin'. I 's in a hurry, Sarp!"
"But 's how't the man that refuses to accept it, when it's set before him, is done reckoned a sinner?"