Besides, I don't remember to have told you that the idol is in the house," she smiled.
He looked at her with a baffled sneer.

"Foxy, ain't you ?" He folded the letter and placed it into a pocket, she watching him silently.

Her gaze fell on the injured arm; she saw the angry red streaks spreading from beneath the crude bandage and she got up, laying her book down and regarding him with determined eyes.
"Please come out into the kitchen with me," she said; "I am going to take care of your arm." He looked up at her with a glance of cold mockery.

"When did you get my permission to take care of it?
It don't need any carin' for.

An' if it did, I reckon to be able to do my own doctorin'." She looked at him steadily and something in her gaze made him feel uncomfortable.
"Don't be silly," she said.