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He turned to the door, murmuring, "My wife gone, Kit a nobody, an' Joe, little Joe, a murderer, an' then I I ust to pray to Gawd an' call him 'Ouah Fathah." He laughed hoarsely. It sounded like nothing Fannie had ever heard before. "Don't, Be'y, don't say dat. Maybe we don't un'erstan'." Her faith still hung by a slender thread, but his had given way in that moment.
"'T ain't no use to be a-humo'in' dat boy too much, Be'y," Fannie had replied, although she did fully as much "humo'in'" as her husband; "hit sho' do mek' him biggety, an' a biggety po' niggah is a 'bomination befo' de face of de Lawd; but I know 't ain't no use a-talkin' to you, fu' you plum boun' up in dat Joe." Her own eyes would follow the boy lovingly and proudly even as she chided.
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