My Lady sat clinging, at first angry-eyed, but in a moment softened by my discomfiture.
“Your partner is rather sudden,” she averred. “He asked permission of neither me nor the mule.”
“He meant well. He isn’t used to women,” I apologized.
“More used to mules, I judge.” 201
“Yes. If he had asked the mule it would have objected, whereas it’s delighted.”
“Perhaps he knows there’s not much difference between a woman and a mule, in that respect,” she proffered. “You need not apologize for him.”
“I apologize for myself,” I blurted. “I see I’m a little slow for this country.”
“You?” She soberly surveyed me as I ploughed through the dust, at her knees. “I think you’ll catch up. If you don’t object to my company, yourself, occasionally, maybe I can help you.”
“I certainly cannot object to your company whenever it is available, madam,” I assured.
“You do not hold your experience in Benton against me?”