She ain't regularly crazy, but I don't know, she's queer.

Y'ought to hear her go on about a gold dinner service she says her folks used to own.

Ask her what her name is and see what she'll say." Trina shrank back, a little frightened.
"No, you ask," she whispered.
"Ah, go on; what you 'fraid of ?" urged Marcus.

Trina shook her head energetically, shutting her lips together.
"Well, listen here," answered Marcus, nudging her; then raising his voice, he said: "How do, Maria ?" Maria nodded to him over her shoulder as she bent over the lounge.
"Workun hard nowadays, Maria ?" "Pretty hard." "Didunt always have to work for your living, though, did you, when you ate offa gold dishes ?" Maria didn't answer, except by putting her chin in the air and shutting her eyes, as though to say she knew a long story about that if she had a mind to talk.

All Marcus's efforts to draw her out on the subject were unavailing.