"
"Then you also are a great man, eh?" She hitched herself about, to
face him more squarely. "That is truly interesting. He would
scarcely wish a railroad conductor to address the daughter of
President Garavel."
"Oh, I've been promoted since I was out here last. Anyhow, I guess
my dad is pretty nearly as good as anybody in Panama."
"He is, then, of blue blood?"
"No! Red."
"Oh, but a gentleman!"
"He is now. He used to be a brakeman."
"You appear to be-proud of such a thing! How strange! My father's
blood runs back to the conquistadors; even in the earliest books
one finds Garavels. They were conquerors, they ruled this country
and all these people."
"That's something to be proud of, but it isn't everything. High-
bred horses run well, but they can't pull. It's the old farm nag
that delivers the merchandise. But I'll tackle your father, and
I'll promise to vote for him."
"You are very fonny." She gazed at him seriously, one tiny foot
curled under her, her chin nestling into her palm.
"Do you love me?"
"Not one single speck. I merely like you to make love at me and
cause my heart to jomp! But that is not fair to you, is it?-since
you can have no hope."
The little hypocrite continued to voice words of warning and
denial, though her eyes invited him, and for a long time they
continued this delightful play of pleading and evasion.
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