"Goin' away, Hermy?" he enquired softly, looking her over with his slow
gaze.

"Yes."

"Goin' far, Hermy?"

"I don't know."

"Goin'--alone, Hermy?"

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"T' save ye from--hell!" he answered, his voice rising loud and harsh on
the last word. "Oh, I know," he went on fiercely, "I know why you're all
dolled up in your best. I know as you mean t' go away to-night with--him.
But you ain't goin', girl--you ain't."

"To-night," she said gently, "is my wedding night."

M'Ginnis lifted a hand and wrenched at the silken neckerchief he wore as
though it choked him.

"No!" he cried, "you ain't a-goin' t' get no wedding, Hermy; he don't
mean t' give ye a square deal. He's foolin' ye--foolin' ye, girl! Oh,"
said he through shut teeth, "ye thought I was safe out o' the way, I
guess. You ought t' known better; th' p'lice couldn't hold me, they
never will. Anyway, I've kept tabs on ye--I know as you've been meeting
him--in a wood! I know," here M'Ginnis seemed to choke again, "I know of
you an' him--kissin' an' cuddlin'--oh, I've kept tabs on ye--"