Clo was divided between the tenderness awakened by these words and the vigilance with which she always guarded the outposts leading to her cherished secret.
"Ain't dat sense, Miss Clorindy?" demanded Dolf, getting impatient.
"I hain't said it warn't," she replied.
"Dis wuld is full ob mercenary men," Dolf went on, "searchin' fur de filty lucre; I'se glad I neber was one ob dem. I allers has 'spised de dross; gib me lobe, I says, and peace wid de fair one ob my choice, and I asks no more."
Clo played with her apron string again, and looked modestly down.
But Dolf did not know exactly what to say next without committing himself more deeply than he desired; indeed, he had been led on now considerably farther than he could wish, but that was unavoidable.
"Not but what fortins is desirous," he said, "'cause in dis wuld people must lib."
Clo assented gently to that self-evident proposition.
"Do yer know what I'se often tought, Miss Clorindy," said Dolf, starting on a new tack.
"'Spect I don't," said Clo.