plump, with broad palms, square fingers and well-kept nails,
suggested decision. He felt the quiet distinction of her simple
white dress. She was like a full-blown, luxuriant white and gold
flower--like a rose, a full-blown white rose, Martin realized,
suddenly. One couldn't call her pretty, but there was something
about her that gave the impression of sumptuous good looks. He
liked, too, the spirited carriage of her head. "Healthy,
good-sense, sound all through," was his final appraisement.

Pocketing his bank-book, he gave her a sharp nod, a colorless
"how-de-do, Miss Rose," and a tip of the hat that might have been
a little less stiff had he been more accustomed to greeting the
ladies. "Right well, thank you, Martin," was her cordial
response, and her friendly smile told him she had heard and
understood the remarks about the big deal. He was curious to know
how it had impressed her.

Hurrying out, he asked himself how he could begin advances.
Either he must do something quickly in time to get home for the
evening chores or he must wait until another day. He must think
out a plan, at once. Passing the bakery, half way down the block,
he dropped in, ordered a chocolate ice-cream soda, and chose a
seat near the window. As he had expected, it was not long before
he saw Rose go across the courthouse yard toward her office on
the north side of the square. He liked the swift, easy way in
which she walked. She had been walking the first time he had ever
seen her, thirteen years before, when her father had led his
family uptown from the station, the day of their arrival in
Fallon.