The Case Of Jennie Brice

When I spoke to her, she turned around quickly. She was a tall woman, about twenty-eight, with very white teeth and yellow hair, which she parted a little to one side and drew down over her ears. She had a sullen face and large well-shaped hands, with her nails long and very pointed. "Where is Mr. Ladley?" I asked. She answered: "Gone out to see the river." -- "I hope he'll be careful. There's a drowning or two every year in these floods." -- "Then I hope he won't," she said calmly. "Do you know what I was doing when you came in? I was looking after his boat, and hoping it had a hole in it." She was standing in front of the dresser, fixing her hair over her ears. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder. "My husband is a fiend, a devil." Well, a good many women have said that to me at different times. But just let me say such a thing to THEM, or repeat their own words to them the next day, and they would fly at me in a fury. So I said nothing, and put the cream into her tea. I never saw her again.