Even then he had a faint fear
that she was not so much smiling as laughing. "The surprising thing is
how well things keep, is it not?"
"Ah--yes," he murmured, not entirely confident, and still dropping
into a chair at her side. "You mean--"
"How fresh some things keep!"
Roger Hapgood's pink little face went violently red.
"I say!" he began. "I didn't mean any offense. I thought--"
"Oh, that's all right," she laughed, gaily. "No offense whatever. Will
you please open that window for me?"
His face became normally pink again as he hastened to throw up the
window in front of her. His eyelid fluttered downward as he met the
regard of a couple of men facing them. Then he came back to her side.
"Thank you," she smiled sweetly up at him. And she held out her hand.
He didn't know what she wanted to do that for, but had a confused idea
that in the free and easy spirit of the West she was going to shake
hands. The next thing which he realized clearly was that she had
dropped a shining ten-cent piece into his palm.
"Oh, look here," he stammered, only to be interrupted by her voice, a
gurgle of suppressed mirth in it.
"I'm sorry that that's all I have in change! And now, if you will hand
me that magazine--I want to read!"
Roger Hapgood fumbled with the dime and dropped it. He swept up the
magazine from a near-by chair and held it out to her.
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