"
"What for?" Keith questioned.
"Why, to be there!" Beatrice opened her big eyes at him. "That," she
declared whimsically, "is the top of the world, and it is mine. I found
it. I want to go up there and look down."
"It's an unmerciful climb," Keith demurred hypocritically, to
strengthen her resolution.
"All the better. I don't value what comes easily."
"You won't see anything, except more hills."
"I love hills--and more hills."
"You're a long way from home, and it's after one o'clock."
"I have a lunch with me, and I often stay out until dinner time."
Keith gave a sigh that shook the saddle, making up, in volume, what it
lacked in sincerity. The blood in him was a-jump at the prospect of
leading his Heart's Desire up next the clouds--up where the world was
yet young. A man in love is fond of self-torture.
"I have not said you must go." Beatrice answered with the sigh.
"You don't have to," he retorted. "It is a self evident fact. Who wants
to go prowling around these hills by night, with a lantern that smokes
an' has an evil smell, losing sleep and yowling like a bunch of coyotes,
hunting a misguided young woman who thinks north is south, and can't
point straight up?"
"You draw a flattering picture, Mr. Cameron."
"It's realistic. Do you still insist upon getting up there, for the
doubtful pleasure of looking down?" Secretly, he hoped so.
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