He saw nothing but the white face of the girl as she stood in the shadows of the barn, with its walls of roughly threaded pine trunks.
"But I have scarcely ever spoken to you in my life!" she protested, looking at him in astonishment.
"It doesn't make any difference," he replied.

"You know I am speaking the truth.

I think, in your heart, that you, too, know that these things don't matter, now and then.

Of course, you don't--you couldn't feel anything of what I feel, but with me it's there now and for always, and I want to have a chance, just a chance to make you understand.

I'm not really mad.