eyes. He still had her hands, delighting in them, caressing them. The girl's face was irradiated. She poured out all her soul for him.
"Me? Listen 'nother time. Before I know you' eyes purple an' you' hair yellow lig unto me, I lig you! Me? Sa-ay—I lig jus' your picture!" She laughed, confessed, and shifted a little closer. "You don' hate me account 1 doing those?"
"No," said Garland, guiltily"—no, I don't hate you."
"Sa-ay—you go'n' take me at those pinkface people?"
Garland was silent.
"If you don', I got go myself. Me? I got go!"
Garland nodded, and she understood him to have assented. This was wrong. But her joy was superb, and Garland had a very soft heart.
"Oh—how that is nize! Me? I got go. I dunno—all times seem lig I b'long 'cross west-ocean. Seem lig I different from aeverybody else. Me? I got have somebody lig me—somebody touch me—hole my hands—so—so—so!" She illustrated fervidly.
