He hurt her, because she wholly mistook his real meaning. Her face fell, but she shook her head bravely, like a fighter taking a blow in the ring.
“Ye never cared,” he added; “ye don’t feel—ye don’t care.” The low notes of his voice rumbled through the little room.
An odd feeling of helplessness seized her all at once. “It’s a good thing for you, I don’t,” said she at length. “Don’t I know men are fools enough without making another fool to add to the list? If I cared—good God, if I cared! Why, I don’t dare care for anybody. Now, don’t you think you’d better be going?”
She had his hat in her hand, and was replacing the violin and bow.
He rose and stood before her, his hands clenched tight, his eyes still burning, his voice vibrant.
“Ma’am,” said he, “I nuvver seen ye but once. Maybe I nuvver will agin. But I’ll al-waysremember what ye said to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was hopin’ ye’d say it would be a good piece of business fer me to stay here this winter fer a while. I was hopin’ I could see ye an’ hear ye play some time, now an’ then. I was hopin’—I was hopin’ what I ortern’t to hope. Ma’am, I nuvver seen no womern like ye in all my life. I reckon I nuvver will agin.”
“Well,” said Polly Pendleton, at length having herself in hand, “you’ve got none the best of me at that—I’ve seen a considerable many fools in my time, but you’re the human limit, son! The best thing I can do is to tie a can to you and get you started West as soon as possible. You’ll spoil over night. You ain’t strictly human. You’re the worst Rube that ever hit this island from any place on earth. Get out now—you’re liable to be arrested any minute!