He lay in bed and listened to the rain and thought, wouldn't you know it would rain? as if this place wasn't grim enough without rain. There was nothing to do that was worth getting wet for, and he tuned over and was soon half asleep again. Then the rain had stopped and someone was opening the door in a tentative sort of way, As he sat up abruptly he was quite sure that it was the girl, but it was only the colored woman to clean the room. She withdrew, saying something apologetic, in the slurred, almost incomprehensible dialect that they had down here, white as well as colored, that had no relationship to the conventional southern drawl, but was a sort of verbal shorthand in which only the important syllables of the important words were spoken. Branch got up and showered, shaved, and dressed. The colored woman was just emerging from the next room when he stepped into the hall. "All clear," he said to her, grinning, to show that he had not minded her coming in. Down here he felt the necessity for being very polite to them to show that he did not approve of the Jim Crow laws that existed in this state.
What do You think about Hamilton, Donald - Novel 01?
