"Well, under all that dust you look scared," he said.
"Scared! I was worse than that. When I first ran into the flying dirt I
was only afraid I'd lose my way--and my complexion. But when the worst
of the storm hit me--then I feared I'd lose my breath."
"Did you face that sand and ride through it all?" he queried.
"No, not all. But enough. I went through the worst of it before I
reached the cabin," she replied.
"Wasn't it great?"
"Yes--great bother and annoyance," she said, laconically.
Whereupon he reached with long, arm and wrapped it round her as they
rocked side by side. Demonstrations of this nature were infrequent with
Glenn. Despite losing one foot out of a stirrup and her seat in the
saddle Carley rather encouraged it. He kissed her dusty face, and then
set her back.
"By George! Carley, sometimes I think you've changed since you've been
here," he said, with warmth. "To go through that sandstorm without one
kick--one knock at my West!"
"Glenn, I always think of what Flo says--the worst is yet to come,"
replied Carley, trying to hide her unreasonable and tumultuous pleasure
at words of praise from him.
"Carley Burch, you don't know yourself," he declared, enigmatically.
"What woman knows herself? But do you know me?"
"Not I. Yet sometimes I see depths in you--wonderful
possibilities--submerged under your poise--under your fixed, complacent
idle attitude toward life."
This seemed for Carley to be dangerously skating near thin ice, but she
could not resist a retort: "Depths in me? Why I am a shallow, transparent stream like your West
Fork! ... And as for possibilities--may I ask what of them you imagine
you see?"
"As a girl, before you were claimed by the world, you were earnest at
heart. You had big hopes and dreams. And you had intellect, too. But you
have wasted your talents, Carley. Having money, and spending it, living
for pleasure, you have not realized your powers.... Now, don't look
hurt. I'm not censuring you, It's just the way of modern life. And most
of your friends have been more careless, thoughtless, useless than you.
The aim of their existence is to be comfortable, free from work, worry,
pain. They want pleasure, luxury. And what a pity it is! The best of you
girls regard marriage as an escape, instead of responsibility. You don't
marry to get your shoulders square against the old wheel of American
progress--to help some man make good--to bring a troop of healthy
American kids into the world. You bare your shoulders to the gaze of the
multitude and like it best if you are strung with pearls."