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Updated: May 14, 2025
Ambrose could think of nothing better to do than let her weep herself out. He sat down on a boulder. She came creeping to him at last, utterly humbled. "Angleysman, tak' me wit' you," she murmured, clasping her hands before him. Her breath was still caught with sobs. "I not expec' you marry me. I not bot'er you wit' much talk lak' a wife. I jus' be your little servant.
Not get no job but cook. Stay wit' me. We got boat and gun and blankets. We need no more. I show you all w'at to do. I show you fishin' and huntin'. When winter come I show you how to trap good fur. You will be rich with me. I not bot'er you no more. I do everything you want." In her distress Sam's angry eyes chose to see only chagrin at the prospect of his escaping her.
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