"There's someone I love better."
"And that's yourself," she snapped.
"'Tis the pretty maid I'm going to marry, and that's you."
"If you dare to say such a thing again," gasped Nellie, "I'll—I'll run away."
"You can run t'other end of the world, but I shall come and fetch ye back," declared the bold youth.
"What's to prevent me from marrying someone else?"
"Yourself, I fancy."
"But I never did like you much, and now I hate you," she said, troubled again by his accent, which recalled her own superior education.
"If you won't hate me any more than what you do now, I shan't grumble," replied the confident young man. Then he asked gently, "Won't you come out Sunday afternoon?"
"No, I will not."