Then she added, half in
bitterness, "There have been others who--"
"Name me the man!" he cried hotly.
"There, there, go on. You were saying?"
"That it's a crying shame for a man to kape company with--with you, an'
at the same time be chake by jowl with a woman iv her stamp."
"And why?"
"To come drippin' from the muck to dirty yer claneness! An' ye can ask
why?"
"But wait, Matt, wait a moment. Granting your premises--"
"Little I know iv primises," he growled. "'Tis facts I'm dalin' with."
Frona bit her lip. "Never mind. Have it as you will; but let me go on
and I will deal with facts, too. When did you last see Lucile?"
"An' why are ye askin'?" he demanded, suspiciously.
"Never mind why. The fact."
"Well, thin, the fore part iv last night, an' much good may it do ye."
"And danced with her?"
"A rollickin' Virginia reel, an' not sayin' a word iv a quadrille or
so. Tis at square dances I excel meself."
Frona walked on in a simulated brown study, no sound going up from the
twain save the complaint of the snow from under their moccasins.
"Well, thin?" he questioned, uneasily.
"An' what iv it?" he insisted after another silence.
"Oh, nothing," she answered. "I was just wondering which was the
muckiest, Mr. St. Vincent or you--or myself, with whom you have both
been cheek by jowl."
Now, McCarthy was unversed in the virtues of social wisdom, and, though
he felt somehow the error of her position, he could not put it into
definite thought; so he steered wisely, if weakly, out of danger.
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