So I don't w-want ter hear no m-more 'bout yer not b-bein' good.

Ye 're sure g-good 'nough fer me, an' th-that 's all thar is to it.

Now, yer w-won't say that no more, w-will yer ?" "No, senor," she answered simply, "I no say dat no more." He remained standing before her, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, a great hulk in the gloom.
"Mercedes," he managed to say finally, "Ye're a-g-goin' ter ride away, an' m-maybe thar'll be o-one hell o' a fracas up yere afore the rest o' us g-g-git out o' this scrape.

I d-don't reckon as it'll b-be me as will git h-hurt, but somehow I 'd f-feel a heap better if you 'd j-jest say them words what I a-asked yer to afore yer g-go, little g-girl; I would that." She put her hands to her face, and then hid it against the pony's neck, her slight form trembling violently beneath the touch of his fingers.
The strange actions of the girl, her continued silence, half frightened him.
"Maybe yer a-ain't ready yit ?" he questioned, his manner full of apology.
"Oh, senor, I cannot say dat--sure I cannot," she sobbed, her face yet hidden.

"Maybe I say so some time ven I know eet bettah how eet ought to be; si, maybe so.