“I want you to put it on for yourself. I don't want you to look different from other men. Everybody's curious about you. They're ready to LAUGH because you came from America and once sold newspapers.”
“It's the men he'll have to look out for,” Hutchinson put in, with an experienced air. “There's them that'll want to borrow money, and them that'll want to drink and play cards and bet high. A green American lad'll be a fine pigeon for them to pluck. You may as well tell him, Ann; you know you came here to do it.”
“Yes, I did,” she admitted. “I don't want you to seem not to know what people are up to and what they expect.”
That little note of involuntary defense was a dangerous thing for Tembarom. He drew nearer.
“You don't want them to take me for a fool, Little Ann. You're standing up for me; that's it.”
“You can stand up for yourself, Mr. Temple Barholm, if you're not taken by surprise,” she said confidently. “If you understand things a bit, you won't be.”
His feelings almost overpowered him.
“God bless your dear little soul!” he broke out. “Say, if this goes on, that dog of your grandmother's wouldn't have a show, Ann. I should bite him before he could bite me.”
“I won't go on if you can't be sensible, Mr. Temple Barholm. I shall just go away and not come back again. That's what I shall do.” Her tone was that of a young mother.
He gave in incontinently.