etorted.
"Being of the same--"

"Wait a moment. I don't like that word 'snake' in connection with Miss
Van Arsdale."

"Though you're willing to accept it as applying to me. I believe you are
trying to quarrel with me," accused Io. "I only meant that, being a
woman, I can make a guess at what another woman would do in any given
conditions. And she did it!" she concluded in triumph.

"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."

"Do you?"

"Yes; I do," she answered honestly, "when I think of it. But you make it
very hard for me to remember it when I'm with you."

"Well, I don't," he said. "I suppose I'm a socialist in all matters of
that kind. Not that I've ever given much thought to them. You don't have
to out here."

"No; you wouldn't. I don't know that _you_ would have to anywhere....
Are we almost home?"

"Three minutes' more walking. Tired?"

"Not a bit. You know," she added, "I really would like it if you'd write
me once in a while. There's something here I'd like to keep a hold on.
It's tonic. I'll _make_ you write me." She flashed a smile at him.

"How?"

"By sending you books. You'll have to acknowledge them."

"No. I couldn't take them. I'd have to send them back."

"You wouldn't let me send you a book or two just as a friendly memento?"
she cried, incredulous.

"I don't take anything from anybody," he retorted dogg