tened right out by the rain, dead as door nails," said Phœbe.
"Better dead," muttered Snailem, shifting his tobacco, "better dead than livin' to be et."
Derek had felt that he must get away from the house with its strange associations—the atmosphere of his marriage clung like stale incense to the rooms. After a few turns on the driveway, he had followed the path into the orchard.
It was dark as a crow's wing there, a good place to wander unseen. The lantern hanging before the shack only served to intensify the richness of the night, as a jewel the raven hair of a woman.
He lighted his pipe, and paced up and down under the wet trees, enjoying the coolness of the night and the movement of his body after the long hours in the parlour. He could hear voices near the lantern, and, as he approached the shack he saw the figures of several men about the table under the lantern. Then he heard the rattle of dice and a low laugh from Jammery. The other men never laughed audibly. Concealed by the trees, he drew nearer and saw their faces clearly as they bent over the table. Isaac and Enoch, the sons-in-law; Charley, the grown-up son; and handsome Jammery, his even features and slender moustache in contrast with the rough-hewn, bony faces of Isaac and John, and the round boyish face of Charley. Inside the shack he could see a group of women and boys. The old woman was plucking a fowl which was tied to the ceiling by its feet.
Jammery was winning, for he drew a little pile of coins to him, and looked in at the door with another laugh. Perhaps he had promised one of the girls a present if he won, for one quickly darted out and put her arms about his neck
