Helen May studied his face while he studied the distant plain. She
thought he acted as though he didn't care much whether she kept the
horse or not, and for that reason, and because his explanation had
sounded like truth, she hesitated over refusing the offer, though she
felt that she ought to refuse.
"It ain't right for you to be out here afoot," said Starr, as though he
had read her thoughts. "It's bad enough for you to be here at all. What
ever possessed you to do such a crazy thing, anyhow?"
"Well, sometimes people can't choose. Dad got the notion first. And
then--when he died--Vic and I just went ahead with it."
"Did he know anything about this country? Did he know--what chances you'd
be taking?" Starr was trying to choose his words so that they would
impress her without alarming her. It angered him to have to worry over
the girl's welfare and to keep that worry to himself.
"What chances, for gracious sake? I never saw such a mild, perfectly
monotonous life. Why, there are more chances in Los Angeles every time a
person goes down town. It's deadly dull here, and it's too lonesome for
words, and I hate it.
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