Once more she smilingly shook her head.
"Some other man?" his face had grown sterner; its hard lines were reasserted.
The telltale color flared in her cheeks; he saw again, rising with the thought of that "other man," the look in her eyes which made them trebly beautiful. It was in vain that she shook her head, and carelessly flaunted the flax as she swayed back and forth.
His eyes were full of fire; his breath was quick; the fever of angry hate was in his pulses. "'Twon't be the fust time ye hev throwed me over fur Rhodes," he said between his teeth, the instinct to identify his rival strong within him.
She laughed aloud with such ready scorn that credulity failed him.
"Then who kin it be?" he demanded, expectantly.
She paused once more, gravity on her face, the shining fibrous flax motionless in her hand. "I'll tell ye—I'll tell ye, ef ye promise never ter tell."
He was dumfounded for an instant. Surely a lover never received a confidence like this!
"I dun'no' ez I want ter know till I be obligated ter find out," he said, gruffly.
"What did ye ax fur, then?" she retorted.