"Yes, Miss Diggs."
He eyed her approvingly. A tear had splashed upon her burning cheek, and was making its leisurely way toward her chin, but tears with Agatha seldom gave the impression of feminine softness. Warren had the usual masculine horror of weepy women. It was a relief to perceive that for all her tears, Agatha's mood was murderous.
"No indeed, we mustn't quarrel," he repeated. "Because I've come on purpose to see you, and do you a good turn. I'm interested in you, and want to help you."
"I don't want none of your help."
"That's because you don't understand, little girl. This world is a pretty big place and so far you've seen only a measly little corner."
"It suits me." He saw an added enmity in her eyes, over this aspersion on her native village, and smiled tolerantly.
"I wouldn't waste any loyalty on this burg if I were in your place. I asked half a dozen people where I could find you and every one pretended he'd never heard of you."
Agatha's look showed her taken aback and Warren was not slow to follow up his advantage.
"Of course I knew they were lying. Even in this unobservant community, my dear Hephzibah, you could hardly escape notice any more than on Broadway. I assume these young men were protecting their reputations by denying the pleasure of your acquaintance."