She closed on him. 'You know what I could do?' Crooks seemed to grow smaller, and he pressed himself against the wall. 'Yes, ma'am.' 'Well, you keep your place then, nigger. I could get you strung up on a tree so easy it ain't even funny.' Crooks had reduced himself to nothing. There was no personality, no ego--nothing to arouse either like or dislike. He said, 'Yes, ma'am,' and his voice was toneless. For a moment she stood over him [like a victorous prize fighter] as though waiting for him…
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