"By George!" he exclaimed, "you make a fellow feel he must be just what you want him to be, and what he ought to be."
The man studied the woman before him, with deep and increasing interest. She possessed a strength, he was sure, of which no one in Gila had yet dreamed. He continued:
"Would you mind telling me the humanitarian notions that made you willing to bury yourself in this godless place?"
She hesitated. The catechism evidently annoyed her, for it seemed to savor of impertinent curiosity. But at last she answered:
"I believe my grandfather is responsible for the humanitarian notions. It is a long story."
She hesitated.
"I am interested in what he has done, and what you are doing. Please tell me about it."
"Well, it goes back to my childhood. I was my grandfather's constant companion until I went to college. He is a well-known philanthropist of New England, interested in the poor, in convicts in prison and out, in temperance work, in the enfranchisement of woman, in education, and in everything that makes for righteousness."
She paused.
"And he discussed great questions with you?"