Mrs. Pennoyer came back and tried to move me. Who could, after Jeanie Bruce had failed? Moreover, I thought she thought she would have done like me.
I fear Jeanie cried most of that journey home. But I, as is the way of man, was happy.
We got back to Knoxville in the early morning. They did not wish me to go home with them from the station; so I put them in a carriage, and sat upon the box. We drove up to the piazza of the little house upon which sat a man in a black frock-coat, smoking a cigar. He threw it away, and took off his hat to the ladies. We both assisted them out; and Jeanie ran quickly into the house, Mrs. Judge Pennoyer following. I paid the carriage, and it drove away.
“Now, sir,” said Mr. Kirk Bruce.
“Now, sir,” said I.
“I will request you, sir, for to give me that ring that is on your finger.”
“That ring does not belong to me.”
“That is why, sir, I ask you as a gentleman, fo’ to give it up.”
“That is why, sir, I am compelled as a gentleman, fo’ to refuse.”
Insults to one’s diction come next to those that touch the heart. Mr. Bruce had me, forthwith, “covered” with his revolver.