“Fate could not be so brutal—to take you from me. Anyway, I’ll not think of it.”
“Do not. Nor will I... I wouldn’t have asked you—only this night has shown me your opportunity. I’m so proud—so proud. You’ll be great some day.”
“Well, if you’re so proud—if you think I’m so wonderful—why haven’t you rewarded me for that little job today?”
“Reward you!... How?”
“How do you suppose?”
She was pale, eloquent, grave. But he was low-voiced, gay, intense.
“Dear Neale—what—what can I do?... I have nothing... so big a thing as you did today!”
“Child! You can kiss me.”
Allie’s sweet gravity changed. She smiled. “I shore can, as Larry used to say. That’s my privilege. But you spoke of a reward. My kisses—they are yours—and as many as the—the grains of sand out there. But they are not reward.”
“No?... Listen. For just one kiss—if I had to earn it so—I would dig that roadbed out there, carry every tie and rail with my bare hands, drive every spike—”