Tis at square dances I excel meself." Frona walked on in a simulated brown study, no sound going up from the twain save the complaint of the snow from under their moccasins.
"Well, thin ?" he questioned, uneasily.
"An' what iv it ?" he insisted after another silence.
"Oh, nothing," she answered.

"I was just wondering which was the muckiest, Mr.St.Vincent or you--or myself, with whom you have both been cheek by jowl." Now, McCarthy was unversed in the virtues of social wisdom, and, though he felt somehow the error of her position, he could not put it into definite thought; so he steered wisely, if weakly, out of danger.
"It's gettin' mad ye are with yer old Matt," he insinuated, "who has yer own good at heart, an' because iv it makes a fool iv himself." "No, I'm not." "But ye are." "There!" leaning swiftly to him and kissing him.

"How could I remember the Dyea days and be angry ?" "Ah, Frona darlin', well may ye say it.

I'm the dust iv the dirt under yer feet, an' ye may walk on me--anything save get mad.

I cud die for ye, swing for ye, to make ye happy.