“No; she didn’t. Not in so many words. But you’re very clever.”
“Say, rather, that you are very stupid,” was the disdainful retort. “So you’re not going to fall in love with me?”
“Of course not,” answered Banneker in the most cheerfully commonplace of tones.
Once embarked upon this primrose path, which is always an imperceptible but easy down-slope, Io went farther than she had intended. “Why not?” she challenged.
“Brass buttons,” said Banneker concisely.
She flushed angrily. “You can be rather a beast, can’t you!”
“A beast? Just for reminding you that the Atkinson and St. Philip station-agent at Manzanita does not include in his official duties that of presuming to fall in love with chance passengers who happen to be more or less in his care.”
“Very proper and official! Now,” added the girl in a different manner, “let’s stop talking nonsense, and do you tell me one thing honestly. Do you feel that it would be presumption?”
“To fall in love with you?”
“Leave that part of it out; I put my question stupidly. I’m really curious to know whether you feel any—any difference between your station and mine.”