She smiled. “I guessed you did,” she said. “Nobody but a man would sew a white button on a white shirt—or one that was white once—with black thread.”
He looked at the button and then at her. His anger returned.
“You said I wa'n't a man, didn't you?” he demanded.
“Yes, I did. But I'll have to take part of it back. You're half a man anyhow; that sewin' proves it.”
“Huh! I want to know. Well, maybe I ain't a man; maybe I'm only half a one. But I ain't a fool! I ain't a fool!”
She sighed wearily. “Well, all right,” she admitted. “I sha'n't argue it.”
“You needn't. I ain't—or anyhow I ain't an EVERLASTIN' fool. And nobody but the everlastin'est of all fools would chase Sarah Ann Christy. I didn't. That whole business was just one of your—your Bennie D.'s lies. You know that, too.”
“I know some one lied; I heard 'em. They denied seein' Sarah Ann, and I saw 'em with her—with my own eyes I saw 'em. . . . But there, there,” she added; “this is enough of such talk. I'm goin' now.”
“I didn't lie; I forgot.”
“All right, then, you forgot. I ain't jealous, Seth. I wa'n't even jealous then. Even then I give you a chance, and you didn't take it—you 'forgot' instead. I'm goin' back to the bungalow, but afore I go let's understand this: you're to stay here at the lights, and I stay where I am as housekeeper. We don't see each other any oftener than we have to, and then only when nobody else is around. We won't let my Miss Graham nor your Brown nor anybody know we've ever met afore—or are meetin' now. Is that it?”