She turned toward the house and he turned and walked beside her.
“You can’t help my seeing you, you can’t help my loving you, you can’t help my winning you,” he whispered fiercely.
She paused and faced him.
“You will make me hate you,” she said quietly; “please go away.”
They were in the shadow of the milk-house and the building hid them from the others.
“I ask you to marry me, will you?”
“No.”
He caught his breath.
“I come of good family. I will take you to a big city. I will give you a fine home,” he urged.
The girl recoiled from him. He reached out for her, but she sprang aside, and bracing her feet, she struck out with all her young strength. She was no weak lady, reared in an artificial atmosphere. She was a woman of the Wild, strong and supple and courageous. It never occurred to her to call out. She obeyed the law she knew: she struck out.