“Anny, you’re not angry,” he said, as soon as he was near enough to speak softly. The words came shamefacedly from his mouth and he slurred them one into another.
Anny gulped; she was very angry, and Hal’s attitude annoyed her.
“Indeed I am,” she said, “and turning a slobbering calf won’t make me any better. Oh! go home, Hal Grame.”
Hal was amazed.
“Anny!” he ejaculated.
Anny repressed a howl of disappointment and contented herself with saying wearily:
“Oh, go home—go home!”
The boy looked at her for a moment or two.
“Anny,” he said at last, “are you trying to leave me for the Spaniard?”
This was more than she could stand, and turning to him she broke out into a stream of angry, incoherent abuse and denial.