"I reckon ye knows I've done took oath thet no man could ever come on this place--sparkin'." "I war right glad ter hev ye say that-- Hit kept other fellers away, an' any man thet hit _could_ skeer off wasn't hardly wuth hevin' round nohow. But thet war afore ye fell in love with me." "Fell in love with ye?" She repeated the words after him still in that even somewhat puzzled quiet which was, for her, almost toneless. "Jack Halloway, when ye went away from hyar yestiddy evenin' an' I'd sat thar fer a full measured hour an' thought, I 'lowed thar warn't a soul on earth ner in hell thet I hated so much as you. I'd done med up my mind ter kill ye afore I laid down ter sleep." There was an implacability about this new manner, that disquieted the man a little, but he said gravely: "Them feelin's jest comes about because what ye felt yestiddy war all new ter ye. Hit's nat'ral enough, but hit won't endure." She went on ignoring his protestations. "Ther only reason I _didn't_ kill ye, war thet I'd done _let_ ye . . . an' I hated myself next es bad es you. Folks tells me thet I hain't always goin' ter want ter turn men back. Mebby thet's true." "Ye knows full well a'ready, thet hit's true," he declared vehemently. "Be thet es hit may, no man's ter wed me without he wooes me fust, an' no man hain't never goin' ter lay a hand on me without I consents. Now I aims ter try an' fergit erbout yestiddy--an' you'd better fergit hit too." The man's eyes broke into vehement challenge. "So long es thar's life in me I won't fergit hit!" "I reckon ye'd better heer me out," she reminded him with an ominous note and he nodded his head, waiting, while she continued. "Yestiddy I seemed crazed--but terday I hain't. Ye 'pears ter be right sartain thet I loves ye. I don't know, but I either loves ye or I hates ye like all hell. Ef I loves ye I kain't kill ye--an' ef I hates ye thar's time enough." "But Alexander, you do love me! I know----" "Wa'al, I don't--an' thet's a right pithy point ter my manner of thinking! Ye're a right masterful sort of feller, an' ye likes ter plow yore way through life gloryin' in yore strength an' forcin' your will on weaker folks." She paused an instant then added significantly: "But I'm a right masterful sort of woman myself--an' I hain't ter be nowise driv. Ef you an' me kain't consort peaceable I reckon we'll jest erbout rake hell afore we finishes up our warfare." As he looked at her his admiration was flaming. Possibly it was best, just now, to advance slowly. "I'm willin' ter wait," he conceded slowly. "Ye're wuth hit."