“Air ye goin' to marry him?”
“He ain't axed me.” The boy's face turned red as a flame.
“Ye air honest with me, an' now I'm goin' to be honest with you. You hain't never goin' to marry him.”
“Mebbe you think I'm goin' to marry YOU.” A mist of rage swept before the lad's eyes so that he could hardly see, but he repeated steadily:
“You hain't goin' to marry HIM.” June looked at the boy long and steadily, but his black eyes never wavered—she knew what he meant.
“An' he kept the Falins from killin' you,” she said, quivering with indignation at the shame of him, but Dave went on unheeding:
“You pore little fool! Do ye reckon as how he's EVER goin' to axe ye to marry him? Whut's he sendin' you away fer? Because you hain't good enough fer him! Whar's yo' pride? You hain't good enough fer him,” he repeated scathingly. June had grown calm now.
“I know it,” she said quietly, “but I'm goin' to try to be.”