He thought he was going to tell him that he was to
marry Charlotte.
But Thomas was surveying him still in that strange bewilderment.
"Look here, Barney," said he, bluntly, "have you been sick? I haven't
heard of it."
"No, I haven't," replied Barney, wonderingly.
Thomas's eyes were fixed upon his back. "I didn't know but you had
got hurt or something," said he.
Barney shook his head. Thomas thought to himself that his back was
certainly curved. "I guess I'll walk along with you a little way,"
said he; "I've got something I wanted to say. For God's sake, Barney,
you are sick!"
"No, I ain't sick."
"You are white as death."
"There's nothing the matter with me," Barney half gasped. He turned
and walked on, and his back still bent like a bow to Thomas Payne's
eyes.
Thomas went on silently until they had passed a house just beyond.
Then he stopped again. "Look here, Barney," said he.
"Well," said Barney. He stopped, but he did not turn or face Thomas.
He only presented to him that curved, or semblance of a curved, back.
"I want to speak to you about Charlotte Barnard," said Thomas Payne,
abruptly. Barney waited without a word.
"I suppose you'll think it's none of my business, and in one way it
isn't," said Thomas, "but I am going to say it for her sake; I have
made up my mind to. It seems to me it's time, if anybody cares
anything about her.
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