I prefer that you should hear
the story just as it is from me, rather than imagine something
which might be worse. Don't you see?"
Jed saw, but he was still very much perturbed.
"Now, now, Mrs. Armstrong," he begged, "don't tell me anything,
please don't. I laid awake about all night thinkin' what I'd ought
to do, whether I'd ought to tell you what Babbie said, or just not
trouble you at all and try to forget I ever heard it. That's what
I decided finally, to forget it; and I will--I vow and declare I
will! Don't you tell me anything, and let me forget this. Now
please."
But she shook her head. "Things like that are not so easily
forgotten," she said; "even when one tries as hard to forget as I
am sure you would, Mr. Winslow. No, I want to tell you; I really
do. Please don't say any more. Let me go on. . . . Oh," with a
sudden burst of feeling "can't you see that I must talk with
SOMEONE--I MUST?"
Her clasped fingers tightened and the tears sprang to her eyes.
Poor Jed's distress was greater than ever.
"Now--now, Mrs. Armstrong," he stammered, "all I meant to say was
that you mustn't feel you've got to tell me. Course if you want
to, that's different altogether. What I'm tryin' to say," he
added, with a desperate attempt to make his meaning perfectly
clear, "is not to pay any attention to ME at all but do just what
YOU want to, that's all.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205