“Did your father buy this sunset with the ranch? And has he got a guarantee that it will perform every night?” he asked.
“Did you ever see anything like it?” she cried. “I have looked at them all my life and I never get tired.”
He laughed softly, his indolent, sleepy look on her. “Some things I would never get tired of looking at either.”
Without speaking she nodded, still absorbing the sunset.
“But it wouldn’t be that kind of scenery,” he added. “How tall are you, muchacha?”
Her glance came around in surprise. “I don’t know. About five foot five, I think. Why?”
“I’m working on that ad. How would this do? ‘Miss Three-Quarters-Past-Seventeen wants to meet up with gentleman between eighteen and forty-eight. Object, matrimony. Description of lady: Slim, medium height, brunette, mop of blue-black hair, the prettiest dimple you ever saw——’”
“Now I know you’re making fun of me. I’m mad.” And the dimple flashed into being.
“‘—mostly says the opposite of what she means, has a——’” 53
“I don’t. I don’t”