“What would you do if your father were taken from you, Miss Dennie?” he asked.
“I've always had to depend on myself somewhat. I would keep on, I suppose.” Dennie looked up bravely. Her father was her joy and her shame.
Well, what had Burgess expected? That she would depend on him? He was in love with Elinor Wream. Why should he feel disappointed? And why should his eye follow the soft little ripples of her sunny hair, giving a pretty outline to her face and neck.
“Could you really take care of yourself? He was talking at random.
“I might do like that woman out at Pigeon Place.” Burgess did n't catch the pathos in Dennie's tone. He was only a man.
“How's that?” he asked.
“Oh, live alone and keep a big dog, and sell chickens. That's what Mrs. Marian does. By the way, she looks just a little bit like you.”
“Thank you!”
“She was at the game on Thanksgiving Day, strange to say, for she seldom leaves home. Did you see a pretty white-haired woman, right south of where we were?”
“Is that how I look? No, I didn't see her. I was n't at the game.”