"Carley, that was coming to you," said Glenn, presently, with deep, heavy
expulsion of breath.
"I only know I love you--more--more," she cried, wildly, looking up and
wanting desperately to throw herself in his arms.
"I guess you do--a little," he replied. "Sometimes I feel you are a kid.
Then again you represent the world--your world with its age-old custom--its
unalterable. . . . But, Carley, let's get back to my work."
"Yes--yes," exclaimed Carley, gladly. "I'm ready to--to go pet your hogs
--anything."
"By George! I'll take you up," he declared. "I'll bet you won't go near one
of my hogpens."
"Lead me to it!" she replied, with a hilarity that was only a nervous
reversion of her state.
"Well, maybe I'd better hedge on the bet," he said, laughing again. "You
have more in you than I suspect. You sure fooled me when you stood for the
sheep-dip. But, come on, I'll take you anyway."
So that was how Carley found herself walking arm in arm with Glenn down the
canyon trail. A few moments of action gave her at least an appearance of
outward composure. And the state of her emotion was so strained and intense
that her slightest show of interest must deceive Glenn into thinking her
eager, responsive, enthusiastic.
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