to misunderstand him and think he liked me, because he doesn't. He's a
perfect savage. I simply loathe him!"

"I'd certainly see that he repented, apologized, and vowed eternal
devotion," smiled Miss Georgie. "That should be my revenge."

"I don't want any revenge. I simply want nothing to do with him. I don't
want to speak to him, even."

"He's awfully good--looking," mused Miss Georgie.

"He looks to me just like an Indian. He ought to wear a blanket, like
the rest."

"Then you're no judge. His eyes are dark; but they aren't snaky, my
dear. His hair is real wavy, did you notice? And he has the dearest,
firm mouth. I noticed it particularly, because I admire a man who's
a man. He's one. He'd fight and never give up, once he started. And I
think"--she spoke hesitatingly--"I think he'd love--and never give up;
unless the loved one disappointed him in some way; and then he'd be
strong enough to go his way and not whine about it. I do hate a whiner!
Don't you?"

A shadow fell upon the platform outside the door, and Saunders appeared,
sidling deprecatingly into the room. He pulled off his black, slouched
hat and tucked it under his arm, smoothed his lank, black hair, ran his
palm down over his lank, unshaven face with a smoothing gesture, and
sidled over to the telegraph table.

"Here's the answer to that message," he said, in a limp tone, without
any especial emphasis or inflection. "If you ain't too busy, and could
send it right off--it's to go C.O.D. and make 'em repeat it, so as to be
sure--"

"Certainly, Mr. Saunders." Miss Georgie rose, the crisp, businesslike
operator, and went to the table. She took the sheet of paper from him
with her finger tips, as if he were some repulsive creature whose touch
would send her shuddering, and glanced at the message. "Write it on the
regular form," she said, and pushed a pad and pencil toward him. "I have
to place it on file." Whereupon she turned her back upon him, and stood
staring down the railroad track through the smoke-grimed window until a
movement warned her that he was through.

"Very well--that is all," she said, after she had counted the words
twice. "Oh--you want to wait for the repeat."

She laid her fingers on the key and sent the message in a whirl of
chittering little sounds, waited a moment while the sounder spoke,
paused, and then began a rapid clicking, which was the repeated message,
and wrote it down upon its form.

"There--if it's correct, that