Well, sir, I didn't blame that musician feller none
when I seen her. She was a peach.
And I couldn't blame her so much, neither, when
I thought of Miss Estelle and all them scientifics of
the perfessor's strung out fur years and years world
without end.
Yet, when I seen the man, I sort o' wished she
wouldn't. I seen right off that Henry wouldn't
do. It takes a man with a lot of gumption to keep
a woman feeling good and not sorry fur doing it
when he's married to her. But it takes a man
with twicet as much to make her feel right when
they ain't married. This feller wears one of them
little, brown, pointed beards fur to hide where
his chin ain't. And his eyes is too much like a
woman's. Which is the kind that gets the biggest
piece of pie at the lunch counter and fergits to
thank the girl as cuts it big. She was setting in
front of a table, twisting her fingers together, and
he was walking up and down. I seen he was mad
and trying not to show it, and I seen he was scared
of the smallpox and trying not to show that, too.
And jest about that time something happened that
kind o' jolted me.
They was one of them big chairs in the room
where they was that has got a high back and spins
around on itself. It was right acrost from me, on
the other side of the room, and it was facing the
front window, which was a bow window.
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