She
asked me some questions about my work, which led me to tell her pretty
much everything about myself that I thought could be of the least
interest; and it was a very pleasant surprise to me to find that she
knew one of the old team, and had even heard of me from him.
"Why," she exclaimed, "how absurd of me not to have thought of it
before! But, you see, Mr. Colston always speaks of you by your first
name. You ought to hear how he praises you."
"Trust Harry to praise any one," I said. "There were some pretty low
fellows on the old team--men who couldn't keep their word or their
tempers, and would slug every chance they got; but Harry used to
insist there wasn't a bad egg among the lot."
"Don't you find it very lonely to live out here, away from old
friends?" she asked.
I had to acknowledge that it was, and told her the worst part was the
absence of pleasant women. "Till you arrived, Miss Cullen," I said, "I
hadn't seen a well-gowned woman in four years." I've always noticed
that a woman would rather have a man notice and praise her frock than
her beauty, and Miss Cullen was apparently no exception, for I could
see the remark pleased her.
"Don't Western women ever get Eastern gowns?" she asked.
"Any quantity," I said, "but you know, Miss Cullen, that it isn't the
gown, but the way it's worn, that gives the artistic touch." For a
fellow who had devoted the last seven years of his life to grades and
fuel and rebates and pay-rolls, I don't think that was bad.
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