“Because he’s a–a beast! I don’t want to talk about him! I don’t want even to remember that such things as he is can be let live!”
21James Botts turned and looked at her and then away, for the childish figure had been drawn up tensely with a sort of instinctive dignity which sat not ill upon it, and from her dark eyes insulted womanhood had blazed.
“I’d like to go back and lick him to a standstill!” to his own utter amazement Botts heard his own voice saying thickly.
The fire had died out of Lou’s face and she replied composedly:
“What for? He don’t matter any more, does he? We’re goin’ on.”
The last sentence recalled his problem once more to his mind. What in the world was he to do with this young creature whom fate had thrust upon his hands? Four quarters and a fifty-cent piece represented his entire capital at the moment, and if he did put her into the hands of the county authorities until his journey was completed and he could make other arrangements for her, it would mean a delay on his part now, when every hour counted for so much just now.
22“Do you know how far we are from Hudsondale?” he asked.
“Not more’n two miles, the farm-hands used to walk there often of an evenin’ to the movies.”
The girl had cleaned her knife in the brook and was now wrapping it in the apron, together with the remains of their repast.
“They say that not more’n twenty miles from there you can see the big river, but I ain’t ever been.”