"B-but yer don't understand——"
"Cose I does, chile!" Minerva exclaimed with a tender smile.
Andy made a gesture of despair:
"B-b-but I tries ter 'splain——"
"Yer don't hatter 'splain nuttin' ter me, man—I ain't no spring chicken—I knowed what ye means befo' ye opens yer mouf. Yer tells me dat ye lubs me an' I done say dat I lubs you—an' dat's all dey is to it."
Minerva enfolded him in her ample arms and he collapsed with feeble assent:
"Yassam—yassam."