"Yes, just lately."
"Lin Slone, I'll never forgive you if you ask Dad that," declared Lucy, with
startling force.
"I reckon that's not so important."
"Oh!--so you don't care." Lucy felt herself indeed in a mood not
comprehensible to her. Her blood raced. She wanted to be furious with Slone,
but somehow she could not wholly be so. There was something about him that
made her feel small and thoughtless and selfish. Slone had hurt her pride. But
the thing that she feared and resented and could not understand was the
strange gladness Slone's declaration roused in her. She tried to control her
temper so she could think. Two emotions contended within her--one of intense
annoyance at the thought of embarrassment surely to follow Slone's action, and
the other a vague, disturbing element, all sweet and furious and inexplicable.
She must try to dissuade him from approaching her father.
"Please don't go to Dad." She put a hand on Slone's arm as he stood close up
to Wildfire.
"I reckon I will," he said.
"Lin!" In that word there was the subtle, nameless charm of an intimacy she
had never granted him until that moment.
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