I never'd heard any man hand out any talk of this sort to any girl before. It was right interesting and I was glad I listened.
"How can a girl tell?" says she, like she was talking to herself.
"Shorely she can't tell all at once," he answers. "I'd never ask you to do more than wait. I'd want to go away and stay away till I could come in at your front door and be welcome," says he. "I wouldn't ask you to decide one thing now. But, as for me, I decided everything long ago."
She didn't say nothing.
"As to your money," says he after a while, "listen to me. Look at me—look close. Look into my eyes. Am I not honest? Tell me—if truth like mine can be mistaken for deceit, then what chance has any man on earth?"
She didn't answer, and he goes on like he had stepped up closer—I don't know but what he did.
"Look into my eyes," says he. "Look at me close. Maybe that'll help me some, for shorely you can see how much I——"
"Don't!" says she. "Don't!"
I don't believe she looked into his eyes at all.
"I wouldn't touch you," says he. "I wouldn't touch your hand—I wouldn't touch the hem of your garment. It wouldn't be right. It maybe ain't right for me to think of meeting you again; but it's right this once."