You looked right natural. Little heavier."
"What do you want?"
"Why, I guess a good many things in general and nothing in particular,
as the sayin' goes. You don't seem right glad to see me, honey."
"Glad!" said Hattie, and laughed as if her mirth were a dice shaking in
a box of echoes.
"Your hair's right red yet. Looked mighty natural walkin' into the
theater to-night. Take off those kinks, honey."
She reached for her cleansing cream, then stopped, her eyes full of the
foment of torture.
"What's my looks to you?"
"You've filled out."
"You haven't," she said, putting down the cold-cream jar. "You haven't
aged an hour. Your kind lies on life like it was a wall in the sun. A
wall that somebody else has built for you stone by stone."
"I reckon you're right in some ways, Hattie. There's been a meanderin'
streak in me somewheres. You and m' mother, God rest her bones, had a
different way of scoldin' me for the same thing. Lot o' Huck Finn in
me."
"Don't use bad-boy words for vicious, bad-man deeds!"
"But you liked me.
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