"Have—have you been down to the house, Frale?"
"Naw, I jes' come this-a-way from the station."
"Is it—is it safe for you to come here, Frale?"
She stood a short distance from him, speaking so softly, and yet he could not touch her; his hands seemed numb, and his breath came pantingly.
"I reckon hit's safe here as thar," he said huskily. "An' I'm come to stay, too."
"Then let's go down to mother. Likely she's a-bed by now, but she'll be right glad to see you. She can walk a little now." She hastened to fill the moments with words, anything to divert that fixed gaze and take his thoughts from her. Instinctively she groped thus for time, she who like a deer would flee if flight were possible, even while her heart welled with pity for him. "Come. You can talk with her whilst I get you some supper." She felt his pent-up emotion and secretly feared it, but held herself bravely. "Hoyle will nigh jump out of his skin, he'll be that glad you come back."
He stood stubbornly where he was, and lifted his hand to grasp her arm, but she glided on just beyond his reach, either not seeing it, or avoiding it, he could not decide which, and still she said, "Come, Frale." He followed stumblingly in her wake, as a man follows an ignis fatuus, unconscious of the roughness of