silence, “You can’t tell me they can’t help it. They kick about white people, then commit the same crime.”
There was a knock on the door, interrupting something Tony Crews was about to say. Alva went to the door.
“Hello, Ray.” A tall, blond, fair-skinned youth entered. Emma Lou gasped, and was more bewildered than ever. All of this silly talk and drinking, and now—here was a white man!
“Hy, everybody. Jusas Chraust, I hope you saved me some liquor.” Tony Crews held out his empty glass and said quietly, “We’ve had about umpteen already, so I doubt if there’s any more left.”
“You can’t kid me, bo. I know Alva would save me a dram or two.” Having taken off his hat and coat he squatted down on the floor beside Paul.
Truman turned to Emma Lou. “Oh, Ray, meet Miss Morgan. Mr. Jorgenson, Miss Morgan.”
“Glad to know you; pardon my not getting up, won’t you?” Emma Lou didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t think of anything appropriate, but since he was smiling, she tried to smile too, and nodded her head.
“What’s the big powwow?” he asked. “All of you look so serious. Haven’t you had enough liquor, or are you just trying to settle the ills of the universe?”
