“And that you’re also the prettiest girl around Santa Lucia.”
“That’s very kind of them.”
“I haven’t seen your ranch, but about the rest of it they’re dead right.”
To this, she made no answer.
“I’m just down for a few weeks,” he went on, changing the subject when he perceived that he had drawn no reply. “I’m a Senior next year at Berkeley. Ever been over to Berkeley?”
“Ever go to any of the class dances?”
“No.”
“Thought you might, being in the city winters. I’m not much on dances myself. I’m a barb.”
He peered, as though expecting that this last statement would evoke some answer. But her eyes were fixed on the little group of buildings—a bungalow, a barn and a corral—which had just come in sight around a turn of the orchard road. For the first time, she spoke with animation.