That night, for the first time, Bles entered Zora’s home. It was a single low, black room, smoke-shadowed and dirty, with two dingy beds and a gaping fireplace.
On one side of the fireplace sat the yellow woman, young, with traces of beauty, holding the white child in her arms; on the other, hugging the blaze, huddled a formless heap, wreathed in coils of tobacco smoke‚ÅÝ‚ÄîElspeth, Zora‚Äôs mother.
Zora said nothing, but glided in and stood in the shadows.
“Good evening,” said Bles cheerily. The woman with the baby alone responded.
‚ÄúI came for the seed you promised us‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe cottonseed.‚Äù
The hag wheeled and approached him swiftly, grasping his shoulders and twisting her face into his. She was a horrible thing‚ÅÝ‚Äîfilthy of breath, dirty,