"This place doesn't interest me," said McGregor quickly. "I don't like
to sit watching people hop about on their toes. If you want to come
with me we'll get out of here and go to some place where we can talk
and get acquainted."
* * * * *
The little milliner walked across the floor on the arm of McGregor,
her heart jumping with excitement. "I've got a man," she thought,
exulting. That the man had deliberately chosen her she knew. She had
heard the introductions and the bantering talk of the black-bearded
man and had noted the indifference of the big man to the other women.
Edith looked at her companion's huge frame and forgot his homeliness.
Into her mind came a picture of the fat boy, grown into a man, driving
down the road in the wagon and leeringly asking her to ride with him.
A flood of anger at the memory of the look of greedy assurance in his
eyes came over her. "This one could knock him over a six-rail fence,"
she thought.
"Where are we going now?" she asked.
McGregor looked down at her. "To some place where we can talk," he
said. "I was sick of this place. You ought to know where we're going.
I'm going with you. You aren't going with me."
McGregor wished he were in Coal Creek. He felt he would like to take
this woman over the hill and sit on the log to talk of his father.
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