Indeed he soon grew so
popular among the young folks that George Udell told Miss Wilson it
seemed as though he had always lived in Boyd City, he knew so many
people, and so many knew him. And of course Clara answered, "I told
you so." What woman could resist such an opportunity? "Didn't I say
that he was no common tramp? You needn't tell me I don't know a man
when I see him."
The two were driving in the evening, on the road that leads south from
town, down a hill, across a bridge, and along the bank of a good-sized
creek, where the trees bend far over to dip the tips of their branches
in the water, and the flowers growing rank and wild along the edges,
nod lazily at their own faces reflected in the quiet pools and eddies.
"You may know a man when you see him," replied George, letting the
horse take his own time beneath the overhanging boughs, "but you take
precious good care that you don't see too much of one that I could
name."
"Who do you mean; Mr. Falkner?" replied Clara, with a provoking smile,
as she tried in vain to catch one of the tall weeds that grew close
to the side of the road.
"Hang Mr. Falkner," returned Udell impatiently. "You know what I mean,
Clara. What's the use of you and me pretending? Haven't I told you
ever since I was ten years old that I loved you, and would have no one
else to be my wife? And haven't you always understood it that way, and
by your manners toward me given assent?"
The girl looked straight ahead at the horse's ears as she answered
slowly, "If my manner has led you to have false hopes it is very easy
to change it, and if accepting your company gives assent to all the
foolish things you may have said when you were ten years old, you'd
better seek less dangerous society.
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