“Yes. I've had a couple too many. Do you know how I feel? Like this—whoops!” He flung his hat off to the left on the lawn. “Whoops!” He threw his cane to the right.
“Ah!” exclaimed Gay, as if he had intentionally hurt her. “Why do you?”
Freeman spread out his hand on his knee and looked at his fingers one by one, raising each in turn. On one finger he wore a large, flashy ring. He moved the finger so that the light flashed from the facets of the stone. Suddenly he looked into the girl's eyes.
“Keep away from me, Gay,” he said seriously. “I'm no good. I'm warning you, understand? Don't have anything to do with me. I'm bad business. I like you, but I 'm bad business.”
“But, Freeman—”
“Not yet. You can 'but Freeman' me all you like when I get through, but this is my hiss, this is the rattle of my snake buttons. You keep away from me. I'm bad for you, and I'm saying so now because after this I won't care a damn. This is my warning. After this you'll have to look out for yourself. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
“Yes, but you don't really mean it.”
“I do mean it. I'm warning you. If you know what is good for you, you'll never speak to me, or let me speak to you again: Once! Twice! Third and last warning! Warned!”
He waited a moment. When he spoke it was no longer seriously, but in his usual flippant tone. “Who is the Lem kid?” he asked.
“Miss Redding's nephew. His father left him here awhile ago. And—what do you think? Henrietta's Bill has set the wedding day. I'm so glad for Henrietta. She has been so sweet about waiting.”