Prince looked after her, and looked at the door that had closed behind
David and Carol, and rubbed his fingers thoughtfully under his
collar,--and followed Connie back to the porch.
"Will it bother you if I sit here a while? I won't talk if you want to
think."
"It won't bother me a bit," she assured him warmly. "It is nice of you
to keep me company. And I would rather talk than think."
So he put her chair at the proper angle where the street lamp revealed
her clear white features, and he sat as close beside her as he dared.
She did not know it, but his elbow was really on the arm of her chair
instead of his own. He almost held his breath for fear a slight move
would betray him. Wasn't she a wonderful girl? She turned sidewise in
the chair, her head resting against the high back, and smiled at him.
"Now talk," she said. "Let us get acquainted. See if you can make me
love the mountain ranges better than Chicago."
He told her of the clean sweep of the wind around his little cottage
among the pines on the side of the mountain, of the wild animals that
sometimes prowled his way, of the shouting of the boys on the range in
the dark night, the swaying of distant lanterns, the tinkle of sheep
bells.
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