"Yes," she replied, without changing a feature or removing her gaze from him.
"Well, I was just going to say—that is—I wouldn't have anything to do with him. He is an awful mean man; I wouldn't speak to him."
"Why?" was the same quiet question.
"Oh! 'cause he's so everlastingly mean. Darnation! haven't I told you a thousand times? How many more times are you going to ask me?"
"Is that all?"
"Yes—no—hold on!"
"What else do you wish?"
"I want to know if—if—if you don't like him, do you now?" suddenly broke forth Jenkins.
The maiden began acting strangely. Her eyes brightened, her lips quivered, and she seemed striving to say something. She controlled her emotion in a moment, and sweeping her hand over her eyes, looked calmly at her questioner, but without deigning a reply.
"Don't you—don't you—don't you love me now? I do you!" besought our friend, going down on his knees in true, sentimental style.