Zeb, who had kept his eyes on Ruby, stepped quickly towards her.

First picking up the paper that had drifted to the pavement, he crushed it into his pocket.

He then took her hand.

It was cold and damp.
"Parson, will 'ee marry us up, please ?" "You haven't asked if she'll have you." "No, an' I don't mean to.

I didn't come to ax questions--that's your business--but to answer." "Will you marry this man ?" demanded the parson, turning to Ruby.
Zeb's hand still enclosed hers, and she felt she was caught and held for life.