“Oh,” he said with some iciness—“Listen to her an' you will die an old maid. Besides, I am not engaged to Mammy Maria.”
“Do you think I am a coquette?” she asked, sitting down by him again.
“Worst I ever saw—I said to Nellie just now—I mean—” he stopped and laughed.
She looked at him, pained.
“Then you've stopped to see Nellie, and that is why you are late? I do not care what she says—I am true to you, Harry—because—because I love you.”
He was feigning anger, and tapping his boot with his riding whip:
“Well—kiss me yourself then—show me that Mammy Maria does not boss my wife.”
She laughed and kissed him. He received it with indifference and some haughtiness.
Then his good nature returned and they sat and talked, watching the sunset.
“Don't you think my dress is pretty?” she asked after a while, with a becoming toss of her head.