JIM. [On the "qui vive."] But I want to see Mr. Travers.
KATE. [In distress.] You—you annoy me very much. [Sits left of table.
JIM. [In real tenderness.] Why, Kate—Katie—see here—I'm your friend—they ain't anybody in the world feels as bad for you as I do—but be reasonable—it's only a question of time. I s'pose every man in Bowlin' Green that owns a gun or a bowie knife's collectin' up there at the Court House—your own pa and Dave—they'll be back here after a while—and what then?—don't you see?
KATE. It's horrible—don't tell me it is duty makes them hunt a fellow-man like that. [Rises.
JIM. I don't pretend to know anything about that—[Pause. Picks up dipper; looks at KATE.] Poor chap—thirsty—oh, well—that's your business, Kate. [Puts dipper on the bench.
KATE. [At bay herself.] You're not a man, Jim Radburn, you're a bloodhound—you hunt men.
JIM. Yes! [Pause.
KATE. Yes. [End of rocker-chair.
JIM. See here, Kate—I want a word or two with Mr. Travers. I think the honestest thing he ever done was liking you—I—
KATE. [Fiercely.] And that is why you hate him! You think he likes me! You think if it hadn't been for him I might have liked you! Well, I do like him—[Pause.] that's why you hunt him! It isn't your duty prompts you—it's your jealousy!