"Ever see the Mojave in the late afternoon from the top of the Tejon Pass?" he challenged. "The wild, barbaric beauty of it? And with water it would be a garden-spot."
"Of course your valleys are wonderful."
"Gracias, señorita."
"But the bare brown hills in summer-time—and the ghost-rivers of the South! I do not think they are beautiful."
"They grow on one," he assured her earnestly. "You wait and see. I wish you could ride over the hills back of Sespe with me this afternoon, and see the San Gregorio valley in her new spring gown. Ah, how my heart yearns for the San Gregorio!"
To her amazement, she detected a mistiness in his eyes, and her generous heart warmed to him.
"How profoundly happy you are!" she commented.
"'Happy'? I should tell a man! I'm as happy as a cock valley-quail with a large family and no coyotes in sight. Wow! This steak is good."
"Not very, I think. It's tough."
"I have good teeth."