“I offer to take the girl off your hands; when I quit the country she shall go with me—”
“And I'd be left here to explain what had become of her!” cried Ware, in a panic.
“You won't have anything to explain. She'll have disappeared, that will be all you'll know,” said Murrell quietly.
“She'll never marry you.”
“Don't you be too sure of that. She may be glad enough to in the end.”
“Oh, you think you are a hell of a fellow with women! Well, maybe you are with one sort—but what do you know about her kind?” jeered the planter.
Murrell's brow darkened.
“I'll manage her,” he said briefly.
“You were of some account until this took hold of you,” complained Ware.
“What do you say? One would hardly think I was offering to make you a present of the best plantation in west Tennessee!” said Murrell.