She met his eyes squarely.
“Yes,” she said. “It almost makes me ill to sit on this log without taking a stick and poking all around it first. Every minute I think something is going to strike me in the back or drop on my head.”
The Harvester grew very white beneath the tan, and that developed a nice, sickly green complexion for him.
“Am I part of your tortures?” he asked tersely.
“Why shouldn't you be?” she answered. “What do I know of you or your motives or why you are here?”
“I have had no experience with the atmosphere that breeds such an attitude in a girl.”
“That is a thing for which to thank Heaven. Undoubtedly it is gracious to you. My life has been different.”
“Yet in mortal terror of the woods, and probably equal fear of me, you are here and asking for work that will keep you here.”
“I would go through fire and flood for the money I owe. After that debt is paid——”
She threw out her hands in a hopeless gesture. The Harvester drew forth a roll of bills and tossed them into her lap.