“It was one of those show men,” I says. “It seems his sister’s husband was out riding with some town woman, and he was chasing them.”
Quentin sat perfectly still, chewing.
“You ought not to lend your car to people like that,” Mother says. “You are too generous with it. That’s why I never call on you for it if I can help it.”
“I was beginning to think that myself, for awhile,” I says. “But he got back, all right. He says he found what he was looking for.”
“Who was the woman?” Mother says.
“I’ll tell you later,” I says. “I dont like to talk about such things before Quentin.”
Quentin had quit eating. Every once in a while she’d take a drink of water, then she’d sit there crumbling a biscuit up, her face bent over her plate.
“Yes,” Mother says, “I suppose women who stay shut up like I do have no idea what goes on in this town.”
“Yes,” I says, “They dont.”
“My life has been so different from that,” Mother says. “Thank God I dont know about such wickedness. I dont even want to know about it. I’m not like most people.”