. . . I wonder if I shall enjoy eating--when I get home. I used to
be so finnicky and picky."
"Carley, don't talk about home," said Glenn, appealingly.
"You dear old farmer, I'd love to stay here and just dream--forever,"
replied Carley, earnestly. "But I came on purpose to talk seriously."
"Oh, you did! About what?" he returned, with some quick, indefinable change
of tone and expression.
"Well, first about your work. I know I hurt your feelings when I wouldn't
listen. But I wasn't ready. I wanted to--to just be gay with you for a
while. Don't think I wasn't interested. I was. And now, I'm ready to hear
all about it--and everything."
She smiled at him bravely, and she knew that unless some unforeseen shock
upset her composure, she would be able to conceal from him anything which
might hurt his feelings.
"You do look serious," he said, with keen eyes on her.
"Just what are your business relations with Hutter?" she inquired.
"I'm simply working for him," replied Glenn. "My aim is to get an interest
in his sheep, and I expect to, some day. We have some plans. And one of
them is the development of that Deep Lake section. You remember--you were
with us. The day Spillbeans spilled you?"
"Yes, I remember.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206