He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. An astonished Jack Kimble was revealed in the aperture. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most.
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