I knowed we would be going away from there before long, and I says to myself before I go I'm going to have that girl fur my girl, or else know the reason why.

No matter what I was talking about, that idea was in the back of my head, and somehow it kind of made me want to pick fusses with her, too.

We was setting on a log, purty deep into the woods, and there come a time when neither of us had said nothing fur quite a spell.

But after a while I says: "Martha, we'll be going away from here in two, three days now." She never said nothing.
"Will you be sorry ?" I asts her.
She says she will be sorry.
"Well," I says, "WHY will you be sorry ?" I thought she would say because _I_ was going.

And then I would be finding out whether she liked me a lot.