Ankyra Sound he beat her with a belt once, ‘cause she cried

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He gives absolutely no indication of reply to her first question, quiet contemplation to the second, and then scorn--but not without a touch of humor--crosses his features like lightning as she utters the third. A fine wish, he answers, but one I will not grant. No, girl, what you desire--what you want from life. The kind of woman you want to be.
He is strangely patient with her; it is very unlike his usual self. Something about the lass draws it out of him. What that is, he does not know. But it does give him a rest from his usual surliness, and for that, they both can be thankful. The tension in his shoulders eases, somewhat.

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