"Do you mean that?" he ask.
"Mean what?" I says. I couldn't think what he meant.
"That I can talk to you now? My way?"
"Oh," I says. I knew then. I guess I should have known before, if I'd stopped to think. But someway I never could put my mind on Luke all the time he was saying anything.
"Cossy," he says, "I've tried to talk to you; you always got round it or else somebody else come in. You know what I want."
I didn't say anything. I sort of waited, not so much to see what he was going to do as to see what I was going to do.
Then he didn't say anything. But he put his arm around me, and put his hand around my arm. I let him. I wasn't mad, so I didn't pretend.
"Let's us sit down here," he says.
We sat under a big tree and he drew my head down on his shoulder.
"You're all kinds of a peach," he says, "that's what you are, Cossy—I bet you've known for weeks I want you to marry me. Ain't you?"