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"
Want
me
!
For
what
,
nephew
?
"
There
was
a
tone
of
humility
,
almost
obeisance
,
in
the
speech
of
the
broken
man
.
The
once
proud
Poindexter
--
before
whom
two
hundred
slaves
had
trembled
every
day
,
every
hour
of
their
lives
,
now
stood
in
the
presence
of
his
master
!
True
,
it
was
his
own
nephew
,
who
had
the
power
to
humiliate
him
--
his
sister
's
son
.
But
there
was
not
much
in
that
,
considering
the
character
of
the
man
.
"
I
want
to
talk
to
you
about
Loo
,
"
was
the
rejoinder
of
Calhoun
.
It
was
the
very
subject
Woodley
Poindexter
would
have
shunned
.
It
was
something
he
dreaded
to
think
about
,
much
less
make
the
topic
of
discourse
;
and
less
still
with
him
who
now
challenged
it
.
Nevertheless
,
he
did
not
betray
surprise
.
He
scarce
felt
it
.
Something
said
or
done
on
the
day
before
had
led
him
to
anticipate
this
request
for
a
conversation
--
as
also
the
nature
of
the
subject
.
The
manner
in
which
Calhoun
introduced
it
,
did
not
diminish
his
uneasiness
.
It
sounded
more
like
a
demand
than
a
request
.
"
About
Loo
?
What
of
her
?
"
he
inquired
,
with
assumed
calmness
.
