"A honorable man," says I, "would of come around to the front door, Bonnie Bell."
"He had no part in this quarrel," says Bonnie Bell; at last, quiet like. "Why blame him?"
That made me hot.
"Why blame him?" I broke out "Didn't I see him? Ain't I heard him? Can't I see now? He ain't no part of a man at all or he wouldn't of done this way. Now," says I, "I've shore got to tell the old man. I hoped I wouldn't ever have to. But now I got to. The safest bet you ever made is that hell will pop!"
She turned around right quick then and jumped up on her feet, and her face was so white it scared me. She come up again and put her arms right around my neck and looked at me.
"Honey," says I, "you got us in wrong—awful wrong! Now us men has got to square it the best we can."
"Stop, Curly!" says she, and she shook me by the shoulder. "Stop! He's—he's a good man. He's—he's honest. He's meant all right. Give him a chance."
"He don't deserve no chance," says I, "and he won't get none."
"It was the best he could do! He had no chance to come here openly—not a chance in the world. Maybe he only wanted to say good-by—oh, how do you know?"
"Did he say good-by or good morning in that last letter, Bonnie Bell?" I ast her. "Not that it makes much difference either way."