Sinclair Lewis

“ Before a log cabin, in a sway-sided rocker, creaked a tall, white, flabby woman, once nearly beautiful, now rubbed at the edges. She rose, huddling her wrapper about her bosom, as they drove into the clearing and picked their way through stumps and briars. ”

“ He's a gambler--told me he was a rich mine-owner, but never touched a mine in his life. Lying hound--worst talker in ten counties! Got a gambler's hand on him, too--I ought to seen it! Oh, wait till I get hold of him; just wait!"
⁠Claire thought of the still hand--so still--that she had seen under the edge of the upturned car. She tried to speak, while the woman raved on, wrath feeding wrath:
⁠"Thank God, I ain't really his wife! My husband is a fine man--Mr. Kloh--Dlorus Kloh, my name is. Mr. Kloh's got a fine job with the mill, at North Yakima. ”

“ You might not sleep well."
⁠He gave her his hand up the embankment, drove to the nearest house, telephoned to Dr. Beach. Later she waited while Milt and the doctor, with two other men, were raising the car. As she waited she thought of the Teal bug as a human thing--as her old friend, to which she had often turned in need.
⁠Milt returned to her. "There is one thing for you to do. Before he died, Pinky asked me to go get his wife--Dolores, I think it is. She's up in a side canyon, few miles away. She may want a woman around. Beach will take care of--of him. Can you come?" ”