"I've heard
nothing else all day but this miserable mining business and your
ruffianly method of settling a dispute. I'd rather not talk about it."
"But we must talk about it," he persisted patiently. "I've got to show
you how the thing stands, so that you can see for yourself where your
misunderstanding comes in. You can't get to the bottom of anything
without more or less talk."
"Talk to yourself, then," she retorted ungraciously. And with that she
ran out of the room.
But she had forgotten or underestimated the catlike quickness of her
man. He caught her in the doorway, and the grip of his fingers on her
arm brought a cry of pain.
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt," he said contritely. "Be a good
girl, Hazel, and let's get our feet on earth again. Sit down and put
your arm around my neck and be my pal, like you used to be. We've got
no business nursing these hard feelings. It's folly. I haven't
committed any crime. I've only stood for a square deal. Come on; bury
the hatchet, little person."
"Let me go," she sobbed, struggling to be free. "I h-hate you!"
"Please, little person. I can't eat humble pie more than once or
twice."
"Let me go," she panted.
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