Suddenly he stiffened, his hands leaping instinctively to his guns. Then he let them fall to his sides and stared unbelievingly: "Miss Saunders!" he exclaimed in amazement. "Why--what are you--?" and ceased, tongue-tied.
"You are--going away?" she asked, her voice breaking, speaking so low he barely could hear her words.
"Tomorrow."
She hung her head for a moment and then turned a wistful, anxious face up to him. "I--I heard what you have been saying. O Tex--I--I am going with you!"
* * * * * * * *
The greatest pleasure in life is that of reading. Why not then own the books of great novelists when the price is so small
Of all the amusements which can possibly be imagined for a hard-working man, after his daily toil, or, in its intervals, there is nothing like reading an entertaining book. It calls for no bodily exertion. It transports him into a livelier, and gayer, and more diversified and interesting scene, and while he enjoys himself there he may forget the evils of the present moment. Nay, it accompanies him to his next day's work, and gives him something to think of besides the mere mechanical drudgery of his every-day occupation--something he can enjoy while absent, and look forward with pleasure to return to.
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