“De Creole lub more ’trongly—more burnin’ in da passion I feeled like I kud a ate dat fella up.”
“What fellow?”
“De fust one. I wa’n’t neer so mad atter de oder. I wa good bit older den.”
“But you were never married, Sabina?”
“Nebba.”
There was just a tinge of shadow on Sabina’s brow, as she made this confession.
“Why you ask all dese quessins, Missy Blanche? You no gwine think fall in lub, nor get married?”
“I don’t think of it, Sabby. I only fear that I have fallen in love. I fancy I have.”
“Law! shoolly you know whetha you hab?”
“No, indeed. It’s for that reason I wish you to tell me how it seemed to you.”