"Done!--never mind. It don't do to talk about it."
She laid her thin hand on his arm, as if impelled to be confidential.
"Do you believe in people being struck?" she said.
"Struck! I don't understand."
"Struck," she repeated superstitiously. "Down, from up there?"
Her eyes went up to the ceiling, like the child's when it thinks of
heaven.
"Was he?" Julian asked.
She nodded, pursing her red lips.
"That's what I think. It came so sudden. Just when I was going to
scream somethin' seemed to come over him, like madness it was. He seemed
listening. Then he says, 'Now--now!' And he seemed goin' right off. He
stared at me and didn't seem to know me. Lord, I was blue with it, I tell
you, dear! I was that frightened I just left him and bunked for it, and
never said a word to anybody. I ran downstairs and got out of the house,
and I daren't go home. So I just walked about till I met you."
She sighed.
"I did enjoy that coffee, I tell you straight, but when you began about
seein' things, I couldn't stow it. My nerves was shook. So off I trotted
again."
Julian put a question to her.
"Do you know what has become of him?"
"Not I. He'll never get in here again. Mrs. Brigg won't let him. She
never could abide him.
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