"I guess--I begin to get your meaning," he said, looking straight
into her shining blue eyes. "You want to impress on me that I'm
not to wring Bram Johnson's neck when his back is turned, or at
any other time, and you want me to believe that he hasn't done you
any harm. And yet you're afraid to the bottom of your soul. I know
it. A little while ago your face was as white as chalk, and now--
now--it's the prettiest face I've ever seen. Now, see here, little
girl--"
It gave him a pleasant thrill to see the glow in her eyes and the
eager poise of her slim, beautiful body as she listened to him.
"I'm licked," he went on, smiling frankly at her. "At least for
the present. Maybe I've gone loony, like Bram, and don't realize
it yet. I set out for a couple of Indians, and find a madman; and
at the madman's cabin I find YOU, looking at first as though you
were facing straight up against the door of-of-well, seeing that
you can't understand I might as well say it--OF HELL! Now, if you
weren't afraid of Bram, and if he hasn't hurt you, why did you
look like that? I'm stumped.
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