“But, girl—I kissed y’u—hugged y’u—handled y’u—” he expostulated, and the making of the cigarette ceased.
“Yes, y’u did—y’u brute—when I was so downhearted and weak I couldn’t lift my hand,” she flashed.
“Ahuh! Y’u mean I couldn’t do that now?”
“I should smile I do, Jim Colter!” she replied.
“Wal, mebbe—I’ll see—presently,” he went on, straining with words. “But I’m shore curious.... Daggs, then—he was nothin’ to y’u?”
“No more than y’u,” she said, morbidly. “He used to run after me—long ago, it seems.... I was only a girl then—innocent—an’ I’d not known any but rough men. I couldn’t all the time—every day, every hour—keep him at arm’s length. Sometimes before I knew—I didn’t care. I was a child. A kiss meant nothing to me. But after I knew—”
Ellen dropped her head in brooding silence.
“Say, do y’u expect me to believe that?” he queried, with a derisive leer.
“Bah! What do I care what y’u believe?” she cried, with lifting head.
“How aboot Simm Brace?”