"Oh, yes, I do; you cur! I know what she was, too. And I even know what she will be; but that doesn't concern you."
"The hell it don't!"
Obermuller turned his back on him. I was dumb and still. Tom Dorgan had struck me after all.
"What is it you want me to do, Nance?" Obermuller asked.
"Get him away on a steamer—quick," I murmured—I couldn't look him in the face—"without asking why, or what his name is."
He turned to Tom. "Well?"
"I won't go—not without her."
"Because you're so fond of her, eh? So fond, your first thought on quitting the—country was to come here to get her in trouble. If you've been traced—"
"Ah! You wouldn't like that, eh?" sneered Tom. "Would you?"
"Well, I've had my share of it. And she ain't. Still—I ... Just what would it be worth to you to have me out of the way?"