"I don't know."
"Goin'—alone, Hermy?"
"Why are you here? What do you want?"
"T' save ye from—hell!" he answered, his voice rising loud and harsh on the last word. "Oh, I know," he went on fiercely, "I know why you're all dolled up in your best. I know as you mean t' go away to-night with—him. But you ain't goin', girl—you ain't."
"To-night," she said gently, "is my wedding night."
M'Ginnis lifted a hand and wrenched at the silken neckerchief he wore as though it choked him.
"No!" he cried, "you ain't a-goin' t' get no wedding, Hermy; he don't mean t' give ye a square deal. He's foolin' ye—foolin' ye, girl! Oh," said he through shut teeth, "ye thought I was safe out o' the way, I guess. You ought t' known better; th' p'lice couldn't hold me, they never will. Anyway, I've kept tabs on ye—I know as you've been meeting him—in a wood! I know," here M'Ginnis seemed to choke again, "I know of you an' him—kissin' an' cuddlin'—oh, I've kept tabs on ye—"
"Yes," she said gently, "I saw your spy at work."
"But y' can't deny it. Y' don't deny it! Say, what kind o' girl are you?"
"The kind that doesn't fear men like you."