"Marry _you_? Marry fiddlesticks! Shucks!" said the lady.

"You won't?" Amazement made him sag down in his chair. He stared at
her owl-like. "Woman," said he solemnly, "when I see my duty I try to
do it. But I warn you--it's your last chance."

"I hope," said Miss Sally Ruth tartly, "that it's my last chance to
make a born fool of myself. Why, you old gasbag, if I had to stay in
the same house with you I'd be tempted to stick a darning needle in
you to hear you explode! Appleby, I'm like that woman that had a
chimney that smoked, a dog that growled, a parrot that swore, and a
cat that stayed out nights; _she_ didn't need a man--and no more do
I."

"Sally Ruth," said the major feelingly, "when I came here this mawnin'
it wasn't for my own good--it was for yours. And to think this is all
the thanks I get for bein' willin' to sacrifice myself! My God! The
ingratitude of women!"

He looked at Miss Sally Ruth, and Miss Sally Ruth looked at him. And
then suddenly, without a moment's warning, Miss Sally Ruth rose, and
took Major Appleby Cartwright, who on a time had charged Yankee guns
and hadn't been scared wu'th a damn, by the ear. She tugged, and the
major rose, as one pulled upward by his bootstraps.

"Ouch! Turn loose! I take it back! The devil! It wasn't intended for
any mortal man to marry you--Sally Ruth, I wouldn't marry you now for
forty billion dollars and a mule! Turn loose, you hussy! Turn loose!"
screeched the major.