” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. "Now stand before me, Poll. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. He moaned. But no more of that. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief.
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