Glen rose and grasped her wrist tightly. "Don't say that, Indy! While
you're single I shall never give up hope. Now, what's in the way? I'm
not your inferior in education. Do you know any handsomer fellow than
I?"--with a grim affectation of humor. "If it's for money--I have all
you'll ever want."
"I must marry a man of the world. I want to live in the world. We're
both undeveloped--I'm not a woman yet, nor you a man."
"I don't consider I'm not a man," said Glen scornfully, "until I have
conquered no end of women, and have their broken hearts for trophies,
like an Indian with a string of scalps. I love one woman, and if she
won't have me--well, I'll not give up until I see her tied pretty
tightly to another man."
"I'm not worth it, Glen." She caught his arm, gazing earnestly up into
his face, "I'm not worth all your devotion."
"I know you have faults enough, but, God help me, I love you all the
better for them."
"Everybody loves my faults," said Indiana, impatiently. "That's the
trouble with me. If I could only find some one who would hate them and
try to cure them."
"I couldn't be harsh to you, Indy. If you killed me, I'd die blessing
you. You nearly did for me once--"
"What!"
"Oh, it wasn't your fault--you were too young to know better."
Indiana sprang from the hammock. "Glen, what wasn't my fault?" she
demanded, fiercely. "What did I do? You shall tell me!"
"All right. But don't get in a temper. I swore I'd never throw it up
to you."
"Don't tease me, Glen," said Indiana, imploringly, "tell me--quickly."