"But you left me, Mr. Stacy."
"Rather say the furies driv me. I wasn't myself. It was another fellow that woman married: the true man staid with you, and here he is, just the same as ever, if you would only believe it—but you won't, you won't!"
"How can I believe it, Mr. Stacy, after abandoning me so?"
"But not till you driv me to it—not till you had slapped my face with that precious little hand."
"Mr. Stacy, I—I'm glad you care for me a little, because I want a great favor of you."
Stacy sat upright in the iron seat, and pulled down his white vest with a couple of jerks.
"A favor, did you say?"
"Yes, a great favor."
"And what may its nature be, Miss Maggie?"
"Mr. Stacy, you are a rich man."