“Yes?” she says. She looked at the flowers again. There must have been fifty dollars’ worth. Somebody had put one bunch on Quentin’s. “You did?” she says. “I’m not surprised though,” I says. “I wouldn’t put anything past you. You dont mind anybody. You dont give a dam about anybody.” “Oh,” she says, “that job.” She looked at the grave. “I’m sorry about that, Jason.” “I bet you are,” I says. “You’ll talk mighty meek now. But you needn’t have come back. There’s not anything left. Ask Uncle Maury, if you dont believe me.” “I dont want anything,” she says. She looked at the grave. “Why didn’t they
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