though the features lacked regularity. But it was a face, so he told
himself, that any man would trust,--a face that would make a man the
better for looking at it,--a face which reflected a soul that no
environment could make other than pure and spotless. And so there was,
perhaps, a shade more of respect and a little less assurance in his
manner when he asked:

"And you like Monterey?"

"I love it! Ain't it romantic--an', my, what a fine time the girls there
must have!"

The man laughed; the Girl's enthusiasm amused him.

"Have you had a fine trip so far?" he asked, for want of something
better to say.

"Mercy, yes! This 'ere stage is a pokey ol' thing, but we've made not
bad time, considerin'."

"I thought you were never going to get here!"

The Girl shot a coquettish glance at him.

"How did you know I was comin' on this 'ere stage?"

"I did not know,"--the stranger broke off and thought a moment. He may
have been asking himself whether it were best for him to be as frank
as she had been and admit his admiration for her; at last, encouraged
perhaps by a look in the Girl's blue eyes, he ventured: "But I've been