"Phebe hasn't."

"What suits one doesn't suit all," he said concisely.

"It would suit more girls than you know for," she informed him. "Take
it round here, there's nothing to do but get married, and all the
change is from one kitchen to another. You don't even have a way to
match up fellows. Soon as you're out of short skirts one of them visits
with you and the rest stay away like you had the smallpox. Our courting
lasted a week and you were here four times."

"We haven't much time, Hannah," he reminded her. "It was right hard for
me to see you that often. There was a smart of things you were doing,
too."

"The more fool!" she exclaimed.

Again his resentment promised to leap beyond control. He clenched his
hands and stared with contracted eyes at the floor.

"Well," he articulated finally, "we're promised anyhow; that can't be
denied. I have your word."

"Yes," she admitted, "but chance that I went with Phebe doesn't mean
I'd never come back."

"It would mean that you'd never come back," he paraphrased her.

"Maybe I would know better," she answered quickly. "I'm sorry, Calvin.