From behind a sea island the full October moon lifted its chill disc and strewed the bay with cold, white fire. The lights were out in Catfish Row, except for a shaft of firelight that fell across the dark from Serena’s room, and a faint flicker in the cook-shop, where Maria was getting her fire laid in readiness for the early breakfast. A cry sounded in the court, which was quickly muffled; then followed low, insolent laughter. Maria was at her door instantly. Across the court, a man could be seen for one moment, seated on Serena’s wash-bench; then behind him the door closed with a bang, shutting off the shaft of firelight. Maria crossed the court, and when she had reached the man’s side he looked up. The moonlight fell upon his face. It was Crown. “What yuh doin’ hyuh?” she asked him. “Jus’ droppin’ in on a few ole frien’.” “Come tuh de shop,” she commanded. “I gots tuh hab talk wid yuh.” He arose obediently, and followed her. Maria turned up the lamp and faced about as Crown entered the room. He had to bend his head to pass under the lintel, and his shoulders brushed the sides of the opening. The big negress stood for a long moment looking at him. Her gaze took in the straight legs with their springing thighs straining the fabric of the cotton pants, the slender waist, and the almost unbelievable outward flare of the chest to the high, straight span of the shoulders. A look of deep sadness grew in her somber face. “Wid uh body like dat!” she said at last, “why yuh is goin’ aroun’ huntin’ fuh deat’?” Crown laughed uneasily, stepped into the room, and sat at a table. He placed his elbows upon it, hunched his shoulders forward with a writhing of muscle beneath the shirt, then dropped his chin in his hands, and regarded the woman. “I know dese hyuh niggers,” he replied. “Dey is a decent lot. Dey wouldn’t gib no nigger away tuh de w’ite folks.” “Dat de Gawd’ trut’. Only dey is odder way ob settlin’ up er debt.” “Serena?” he asked, with a sidelong look, and a laugh. “Dat sister gots de fear ob Gawd in she heart. I ain’t ’fraid none ob she.” After a moment of silence he asked abruptly: “Bess still libbin’ wid de cripple?” “Yes; an’ she a happy, decent ’oman. Yuh bes’ leabe she alone.” “Fer Gawd’ sake! Wut yuh tink I come tuh dis damn town fuh? I ain’t jus’ huntin’ fuh deat’! I atter my ’oman.” Maria placed her hands on the table opposite the man and bent over to look into his face. “’Oman is all berry much de same,” she said in a low, persuasive voice. “Dey comes an’ dey goes. One sattify a man quick as annuduh. Dey is lots ob bettuh lookin’ gal dan Bess. She fix fuh life now wid dat boy. I ax yuh go an’ lef she. Gib she uh chance.” “It tek long time tuh learn one ’oman,” he said slowly. “Me an’ Bess done fight dat all out dese fibe year gone.” “Yuh ain’t goin’ leabe she den?” There was an unusual note of pleading in the heavy voice. “Not till Hell freeze.” After a moment he arose and turned to her.