And I don't believe mother was, either," replied Lucy. It was easy
to strike fire from her.
"Wal, you did dead wrong to ride out there day after day meetin' Slone,
because--young woman--if he ever has the nerve to ask me for you I'll beat him
up bad."
"Then you'd be a brute!" retorted Lucy.
"Wal, mebbe," returned Bostil, secretly delighted and surprised at Lucy's
failure to see through him. But she was looking inward. He wondered what hid
there deep in her. "But I can't stand for the nerve of thet."
"He--he means to--to ask you."
"The h---. . . . A-huh!"
Lucy did not catch the slip of tongue. She was flushing now. "He said he'd
never have let me meet him out there alone--unless--he--he loved me--and as
our neighbors and the riders would learn of it--and talk--he wanted you and
them to know he'd asked to--to marry me."
"Wal, he's a square young man!" ejaculated Bostil, involuntarily. It was hard
for Bostil to hide his sincerity and impulsiveness; much harder than to hide
unworthy attributes. Then he got back on the other track.
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