She had not known that he was
a writer of stories.
"You might, at least, have asked me if I cared to be a Western heroine
in your story."
"Oh, that would have spoiled it all! Can't you see? You would not have
been yourself, if you had known. And our visits--"
"I don't think I care to be the heroine of your story, Mr. Bartley."
"You really mean it?"
Dorothy nodded thoughtfully. Bartley knew, intuitively, that she was
sincere--that she was not angling for flattery. He had thought that he
was rather paying her a compliment in making her the heroine of his
first Western book; or, at least, that she would take it as a
compliment. He frowned, twisting a spear of dry grass in his fingers.
"Of course--that needn't make any difference about your calling--on Aunt
Jane."
"Thank you," laughed Bartley. "And because of the privilege which I
really appreciate, I'll agree to look for another heroine."
Dorothy had not expected just such an answer. "In San Andreas?" she
queried.
"I can't say. I'll be lucky if I find another, anywhere, to compare--"
"If you had asked me, first," interrupted Dorothy, "I might have said
'yes.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215