Whatever the planter's vices, and he was reputed to possess a
fair working knowledge of good and evil, no one had ever charged
him with hypocrisy. His emotions lay close to the surface and
wrote themselves on his unprepossessing exterior with an
impartial touch. He had felt no pleasure when Murrell rode into
the yard, and he had welcomed him according to the dictates of
his mood, which was one of surly reticence.
"So your sister doesn't like me, Tom--that's on your mind this
morning, is it?" Murrell was saying, as he watched his friend out
of the corner of his eyes.
"She was mad enough, the way you pushed in on us at Boggs'
yesterday. What happened back in North Carolina, Murrell,
anyhow?"
"Never you mind what happened."
"Well, it's none of my business, I reckon; she'll have to look
out for herself, she's nothing to me but a pest sand a nuisance
--I've been more bothered since she came back than I've been in
years! I'd give a good deal to be rid of her," said Ware,
greatly depressed as he recalled the extraordinary demands Betty
had made.
"Make it worth my while and I'll take her off your hands," and
Murrell laughed.
Tom favored him with a sullen stare.
"You'd better get rid of that notion--of all fool nonsense, this
love business is the worst! I can't see the slightest damn
difference between one good looking girl and another. I wish
every one was as sensible as I am," he lamented. "I wouldn't
miss a meal, or ten minutes' sleep, on account of any woman in
creation," and Ware shook his head.
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