But his eyes were like flint.

He certainly looked to be in possession of all his wits.
"How ?" queried Lucy, sharply.
"You can marry me.

Thet'll show thet gang! An' it'll square me.

Then I'll go back to work an' I'll stick.

Thet's all, Lucy Bostil." Manifestly he was laboring under strong suppressed agitation.