"Danny," she says, looking like she is going to cry, "don't l-l-look at me l-l-like that. If you knew ALL you wouldn't blame me. You—"
"Wouldn't blame you fur what?" I asts her.
"I know it's wrong of me," she says, begging-like.
"Mebby it is and mebby it ain't," I says. "But what is it?"
"But you never wrote to me," she says.
"You never wrote to me," I says, not wanting her to get the best of me, whatever it was she might be talking about.
"And then HE came to town!—"
"Who?" I asts her.
"Don't you know?" she says. "The man I am going to marry."
When she said that I felt, all of a sudden, like when you are broke and hungry and run acrost a half dollar you had forgot about in your other pants. I was so glad I jumped.