"Bill, don't fool. This is not any joking matter. This come-day-go-day attitude of yours is bad business. It's ruining you, really it is."
"Drink and the devil, huh?"
"Oh, you're decent enough far as that goes. You never have been beastly."
"I thank you, madam, for this good opinion of your humble servant."
"Shut up! I mean to say— What I'm trying to beat into your thick head, you simple thing, is that in this world you don't stand still. You can't. You either go ahead or you slip back. And—you aren't going ahead."
"If not, why not, huh? I know you mean well, Sally Jane, and——"
"And it's none of my business? Oh, I know you weren't going to say that but you think it. You're quite right, Bill—but can't you see I'm talking for your own good?"
"Sure, yes. My pa used to talk just like that before he'd go out behind the corral with a breeching-strap in one hand and my ear in the other. I've heard him many's the time. I used to hurt most unpleasant for two-three days after, special if he'd forget which end of the strap carried the buckle. Old times, old times. Now, I take it you were never licked, Sally Jane. That was a mistake. You should have been— What? You don't mean to say you're going home? And we were getting along so nicely too. Well, if willful must, she must. I'll hold your horse for you. Again let me offer my apologies for the lack of a door."
He sagged down on his heel and watched her ride away along the side of Linny's Hill.
"I've often heard a woman's 'no' doesn't mean what it says," he muttered, fishing out the makings from a vest pocket. "But Sally Jane is so persistent with it, I dunno. I wonder if I really love her, or do I only think I do because I can't have her? I suppose I'd feel worse'n I do every time she turns me down if I did. Lord! she said, I said, he said, and may Gawd have mercy on your soul!"