“Come right in,” he said, “Come right in.”
“You ready to go now?” Jason said.
“Walk right in,” the other said, propelling him by the elbow into a room where a man and a woman sat. “You know Myrtle’s husband, dont you? Jason Compson, Vernon.”
“Yes,” Jason said. He did not even look at the man, and as the sheriff drew a chair across the room the man said,
“We’ll go out so you can talk. Come on, Myrtle.”
“No, no,” the sheriff said, “You folks keep your seat. I reckon it aint that serious, Jason? Have a seat.”
“I’ll tell you as we go along,” Jason said. “Get your hat and coat.”
“We’ll go out,” the man said, rising.
“Keep your seat,” the sheriff said. “Me and Jason will go out on the porch.”
“You get your hat and coat,” Jason said. “They’ve already got a twelve hour start.” The sheriff led the way back to the porch. A man and a woman passing spoke to him. He responded with a hearty florid gesture. Bells were still ringing, from the direction of the section known as Nigger Hollow. “Get your hat, Sheriff,” Jason said. The sheriff drew up two chairs.