Every instinct and habit
made her a stranger among these poor swamp-people living like vermin in
their lair. With all her soul she wished she had not yielded to Harney's
curiosity, and brought him there.
The rain had drenched her, and she began to shiver under the thin folds
of her dress. The younger woman must have noticed it, for she went out
of the room and came back with a broken tea-cup which she offered to
Charity. It was half full of whiskey, and Charity shook her head; but
Harney took the cup and put his lips to it. When he had set it down
Charity saw him feel in his pocket and draw out a dollar; he hesitated
a moment, and then put it back, and she guessed that he did not wish her
to see him offering money to people she had spoken of as being her kin.
The sleeping man stirred, lifted his head and opened his eyes. They
rested vacantly for a moment on Charity and Harney, and then closed
again, and his head drooped; but a look of anxiety came into the woman's
face. She glanced out of the window and then came up to Harney.
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