You say I'm hones'.

Wal, I'm hones' now, an' I come to you wit' fair words an' I show my han' to you--I don' hoi' out no cards, M'sieu'-- but I don' t'ink it is you who have play square, altogeder.

I'm Necia's frien', an' I'll fight for her jus' so queecker lak' you, but I mus' know dis t'ing for sure, so if you have de good heart an' de courage of good man you'll tell me de truth.

Do you have the feelin' for marry on her ?" The pause that followed was awkward for both of them, while the girl, who stood concealed near by, held her breath and buried her nails in her palms.

Why did he hesitate?
Would he never speak?
It seemed not, for he swung between diverse emotions--anger that this outsider should question him on so intimate a matter, chagrin at the knowledge of having injured Necia, and rage, blind rage, at the thought of its becoming a bar-room topic.