"There is trouble! There is trouble!" she said, with her usual
prompt decision. "There is room for me in the coach. I am going
along."
"You--what in the world do you mean? You'll do nothing of the
sort!" rejoined Dunwody. "It's going to be no place for women, up
there. It's a _fight_, this time!"
"Perhaps not for Jeanne or Hector's mother, or for many women; but
for me it is the very place where I belong! _I_ made that trouble
yonder. It was I, not you, who caused that disaffection among the
blacks. Your neighbors ought to blame me, not you--I will explain
it all to them in a moment, in an instant. Surely, they will
listen to me. Yes, I am going."
Dunwody looked at her in grave contemplation for an instant.
"In God's name, my dear girl, how can you find it in your heart to
see that place again? But do you find it? Will you go? If you
insist, we'll take care of you."
"Of course! Of course!" she replied, and even then was busy
hunting for her wraps.
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