“I’ll never be able to make it look as beautiful on paper as it really is,” she sighed. “No one could really hope to.”
“I’d like to have one of the sketches you made of the Canyon the other day,” Gale said. “I intend to frame it and keep it as a memento.”
“Isn’t it funny, Gale,” Val mused aloud, “how you never miss anything until you’ve seen it.”
“You might feel as though you miss something,” Gale agreed, “but you don’t know what it is.”
“I shall miss all this a lot when we go back East,” Val declared, looking about at the Arizona sunset. “Everything is so--big out here. I feel awf’ly small. When I think of the silly things we quarrel over in school and the things we think we can’t get along without in the city, it makes me ashamed of myself.”
Gale laughed. “If you lived out here long enough, I’m afraid you would have a bad inferiority complex.”
“No, but don’t you feel that way?” Val demanded. “Tomorrow we start for Monument Valley near Kayenta. That’s one hundred and seventy-five miles from the nearest telephone. Imagine what that means! Back home we don’t think anything of a telephone because nearly everybody has one.”
“Yes, and just think, I haven’t had a chocolate soda since I came out here,” chimed in Janet, coming up behind them. “I hope I shall survive.”
“You look as though you might pull through,” Valerie laughed.
“Come and get it!” Tom called and there was a concerted rush for the makeshift supper table.