Cora laughs in a loose sort of way. She is a tall, thin, mulatto woman. Her eyes are deep-set behind a pointed nose. Her hair is coarse and bushy. Seeing that Stella also is restless, she takes her arm and the two women move towards the table. They slip into chairs. Halsey follows and lights the lamp. He lays out a pack of cards. Stella sorts them as if telling fortunes. She is a beautifully proportioned, large-eyed, brown-skin girl. Except for the twisted line of her mouth when she smiles or laughs, there is about her no suggestion of the life she’s been through. Kabnis, with great mock-solemnity, goes to the corner, takes down the robe, and dons it. He is a curious spectacle, acting a part, yet very real. He joins the others at the table. They are used to him. Lewis is surprised. He laughs. Kabnis shrinks and then glares at him with a furtive hatred. Halsey, bringing out a bottle of corn licker, pours drinks. Halsey: Come on, Lewis. Come on, you fellers. Heres lookin at y. Then, as if suddenly recalling something, he jerks away from the table and starts towards the steps. Kabnis: Where y goin, Halsey? Halsey: Where? Where y think? That oak beam in th wagon— Kabnis: Come ere. Come ere. Sit down. What in hell’s wrong with you fellers? You with your wagon. Lewis with his Father John. This aint th time fer foolin with wagons. Daytime’s bad enough f that. Ere, sit down. Ere, Lewis, you too sit down. Have a drink. Thats right. Drink corn licker, love th girls, an listen t th old man mumblin sin. There seems to be no good-time spirit to the party. Something in the air is too tense and deep for that. Lewis, seated now so that his eyes rest upon the old man, merges with his source and lets the pain and beauty of the South meet him there. White faces, pain-pollen, settle downward through a cane-sweet mist and touch the ovaries of yellow flowers. Cotton-bolls bloom, droop. Black roots twist in a parched red soil beneath a blazing sky. Magnolias, fragrant, a trifle futile, lovely, far off... His eyelids close. A force begins to heave and rise... Stella is serious, reminiscent. Stella: Usall is brought up t hate sin worse than death— Kabnis: An then before you have y eyes half open, youre made t love it if y want t live. Stella: Us never— Kabnis: Oh, I know your story: that old prim bastard over yonder, an then old Calvert’s office— Stella: It wasnt them— Kabnis: I know. They put y out of church, an then I guess th preacher came around an asked f some. But thats your body. Now me— Halsey (passing him the bottle): All right, kid, we believe y. Here, take another. Wheres Clover, Stel? Stella: You know how Jim is when he’s just out th swamp. Done up in shine an wouldnt let her come. Said he’d bust her head open if she went out. Kabnis: Dont see why he doesnt stay over with Laura, where he belongs. Stella: Ask him, an I reckon he’ll tell y. More than you want.