The girl smiled happily.
“I never knew before what it was to live,” she said. “I have never been sickly; but on the other hand I never felt health before, to know it was a tangible, enjoyable possession that one experienced and was conscious of every moment. People fill themselves with medicines, or drugs, or liquors, to induce temporarily a poor imitation of what they might enjoy constantly if they only would. A man who thinks that a drink is the only thing that can make one feel like shouting and waving one’s hat should throw a leg over one of your Morgans before breakfast one of these cool September mornings, and give him his head and let him go. Oh, boy!” she cried. “There’s intoxication for you!”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dancing. She was a picture of life and health and happiness; and Custer’s eyes were sparkling, too.
“Gee!” he exclaimed. “You’re a regular Pennington!”
“I wish I were!” the girl thought to herself. “You honor me,” was what she said aloud.
Custer laughed.
“That sounded rotten, didn’t it? But you know what I meant—it’s nice to have people whom we like like the same things we do. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we think our likes are the best in the world. I didn’t mean to be egotistical.”
Eva had just entered the patio.
“Listen to him, the radiant child!” she exclaimed. “Do you know, Shannon, that dear little brother just hates himself!”
She walked over and perched on his knee and kissed him.