Annixter saw the tears in her eyes.
"How about that?
Will you forget it?
Will you--will--will you LIKE me ?" She shook her head.
"No," she said.
"No what?
You won't like me?
Is that it ?" Hilma, blinking at the napkin through her tears, nodded to say, Yes, that was it.

Annixter hesitated a moment, frowning, harassed and perplexed.
"You don't like me at all, hey ?" At length Hilma found her speech.

In her low voice, lower and more velvety than ever, she said: "No--I don't like you at all." Then, as the tears suddenly overpowered her, she dashed a hand across her eyes, and ran from the room and out of doors.
Annixter stood for a moment thoughtful, his protruding lower lip thrust out, his hands in his pocket.
"I suppose she'll quit now," he muttered.

"Suppose she'll leave the ranch--if she hates me like that.

Well, she can go--that's all--she can go.