“It’s nice to have you say that; but I haven’t always been here, and, really, you know I don’t belong.”
“But you do belong!”
“And I’m going away again pretty soon. I must go back to the city.”
“Please don’t go back,” he begged. “You don’t really have to, do you?”
“I had intended telling you all this morning; but after the spurs, I couldn’t.”
“Do you really have to go?” Custer insisted.
“I don’t have to, but I think I ought to. Do you want me to stay—honestly?”
“Honest Injun!” he said, smiling.
“Maybe I will.”
He reached over with his right hand and took hers.