Read it. Or listen to it.

Here’s a sample [Samuel Hamilton talking to his wife Liza as he prepares to confront Adam Trask]:

In the midst of painting the blacking on his worn shoes he looked sideways up at her. “Could I
take the Bible along?” he asked. “There’s no place for getting a good name like the Bible.”

“I don’t much like it out of the house,” she said uneasily. “And if you’re late coming home,
what’ll I have for my reading? And the children’s names are in it.” She saw his face fall. She
went into the bedroom and came back with a small Bible, worn and scuffed, its cover held on by
brown paper and glue. “Take this one,” she said.

“But that’s your mother’s.”

“She wouldn’t mind. And all the names but one in here have two dates.”

“I’ll wrap it so it won’t get hurt,” said Samuel.

Liza spoke sharply. “What my mother would mind is what I mind, and I’ll tell you what I mind.
You’re never satisfied to let the Testament alone. You’re forever picking at it and questioning it.
You turn it over the way a ’coon turns over a wet rock, and it angers me.”

“I’m just trying to understand it, Mother.”

“What is there to understand? Just read it. There it is in black and white. Who wants you to
understand it? If the Lord God wanted you to understand it He’d have given you to understand or
He’d have set it down different.”

“But, Mother—”

“Samuel,” she said, “you’re the most contentious man this world has ever seen.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Don’t agree with me all the time. It hints of insincerity. Speak up for yourself.”

She looked after his dark figure in the buggy as he drove away. “He’s a sweet husband,” she said
aloud, “but contentious.”

And Samuel was thinking with wonder, Just when I think I know her she does a thing like that.