“Did he?” replied Lady Joan, without interest.
A flaringly illustrated New York paper was spread out upon his sofa. He pushed it aside and pulled the shabby atlas toward him. It fell open at a map of North America as if through long habit.
“Sit thee down,” he ordered.
Tembarom had stood watching them both. “I guess you’d better not do that,” he suggested to Tummas.
“Why not?” said the boy, sharply. “It’s the same as if he’d married her. If she wur his widder, she’d want to talk about him. Widders allus wants to talk. Why shouldn’t she? Women’s women. He’d ha’ wanted to talk about her.”
“Who is ‘he’?” asked Joan, with stiff lips.
“The Temple Barholm as ’u’d be here if he was na.”
Joan turned to Tembarom.
“Do you come here to talk to this boy about him?” she said. “How dare you!”
Tummas’s eyes snapped; his voice snapped also.