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After her first wild grief had expended itself, Lydia found that, after all, Levine's tragic death had not surprised her. She realized that ever since she had known Charlie Jackson, she had been vaguely haunted by a fear of just such an ending. July slipped into a breathless, dusty August. Lydia worked very hard, making herself tasks when necessary work was done. She put up fruit.
Levine's overcoat showed a patch of red on the right breast. "For God's sake! Here, put him on the couch," gasped Amos. "Billy, take Levine's bicycle and get the doctor here," said Pa Norton. "Hot water and clean cloth, Lydia," said Amos. "Let's get his clothes off, Norton." "Don't touch me except to cut open my clothes and pack the wound with ice in a pad of rags," said John weakly.
Lydia didn't know what a hussy was, but she didn't want to stir an inch from her father's side because of her fear of drunken men. She was in a quiver of excitement; torn with pity and doubt when she thought of Charlie Jackson; speechless with apprehension when she thought of the possibility of Levine's being defeated.
"Take her, Billy, and heaven help you if you're not good to her, for John Levine's spirit will haunt you with a curse." Billy raised Lydia to her feet and the extraordinary smile was on his face. "What do you think about it, Lizzie?" he asked. Lizzie, who had been crying comfortably, wiped her eyes with the sock she was darning.
Levine's character is interesting but there remains the fact that he has been proceeding fraudulently for years in his relations to the Indian lands. You yourself don't pretend to justify your acts, do you, Mr. Levine?" Lydia sat down and Levine slowly rose and looked thoughtfully out of the window.
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