r way, and maybe, deep down you don't think I'm any better than
the others do, but--but I want you to think I am, and I am going to tell
you the truth, and you must believe me--I am a good girl."

"Great God! of course you are," he blurted out. "Don't you suppose I
know? That isn't what has been bothering me, lassie. Why, I'd 'a' fought
any buck who'd 'a' sneered at you. What I wanted to know was, whether
or not you really cared for any of those duffers. Can you tell me that,
Christie?"

She lifted her eyes to his face, her lips parted.

"I can answer any thing you ask."

"And you do not care for them?"

"No."

He drew his breath sharply, his round face rosy.

"Then you have got to listen to me, for I'm deadly in earnest. I'm an
old, rough, bald-headed fool that don't know much about women,--I never
thought before I'd ever want to,--but you can bet on one thing, I'm
square. Anybody in this town will tell you I'm square. They'll tell you
that whatever I say goes. I've never run around much with women; somehow
I never exactly liked the kind I've come up against, and maybe they
didn't feel any particular interest in me. I didn't cut much shine as a
ladies' man, but, I reckon now, it's only because the right one hadn't
happened along. She is here now, though, all right, and I knew it the
very first time I set eyes on her. Oh, you roped and tied me all right
the first throw. Maybe I did get you and that half-sister mixed up a
bit, but just the same you were the one I really wanted. Hope's all
right; she's a mighty fine girl, but you are the one for me, Christie.
Could you--could you care for such a duffer as I am?"

Her lips were smiling and so were her eyes, but it was a pleading smile.

"I--I don't think it would be so very hard," she admitted, "not if you
really wanted me to."

"You know what I mean--that I love you,--wish you to be my wife?"

"I supposed that was it--that--that you wanted me."

"Yes, and--and you will love me?"

Her head drooped slowly, so slowly he did not realize the significance
of the action, until her lips touched his hand.

"I do," she said; "you are the best man in the world."

Fairbain could not move, could not seem to realize what it all meant.
The outcome had been so sudden, so surprising, that all power of
expression deserted him. In bewilderment he lifted her face, and looked
into her eyes. Perhaps she realized--with the swift intuition of a
clever woman--the man's perplexit