“I don't! I think it's infernal foolishness, and I wish the Mayo breed didn't have so much of that cursed stiff-necked conscience! Our family wouldn't be where it is to-day.” He spoke with so much heat that she turned-wondering eyes on him.
“But it's for her sake, Boyd! It's—”
“Nothing of the sort! That is, it isn't as you think it is.”
“I only think you love her.”
“I don't want you to say that—or believe it!” he raved. “If you only knew—if I could tell you—you'd see that it's insulting my common sense to say that I'm in love with Alma Marston. I don't love her! I—I don't know just where I stand. I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm in the most damnable position a man can be in. And I'm talking like a fool. Isn't that so?”
“I don't understand you,” she faltered.
“Of course you don't. I reckon I'm a lunatic. I'll be rolling over here and biting the grass next!”
His passion puzzled her. His flaming eyes, his rough beard, his rage, and all the uncouth personality of him shocked her.
“Boyd, what—whatever is the matter? I'm afraid.”
“I don't blame you. I'm afraid of myself these days!” He shook his swollen fists over his head.