“He don’t know where I live,” she said.

“Don’t know! That’s strange. Why doesn’t he?”

“I ‘fraid tellin’.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid he disowning me forever.”

“Why should he do that?”

He was getting interested. He disliked wringing her secrets from her in this wise. He wanted her confidence unsolicited; but his curiosity had the better of him. “Why should he disown you?” he repeated.

“Because I marrying—” she paused, somewhat piteously, holding one of his hands closely between her own small ones, and entreatingly pressing it as though begging him not to pursue his questions.

“Well?” he said—“because you married—”

“You,” she finished.