Lots of
rough stretches in the road. I've struck several and I've always
been glad when somebOdy has given me a lift. And I want to pass
it on--if you'll let me. It's something we owe each other--don't
you think?"
The words were fine enough; but it was the voice in which he
said them that went to her heart. She covered her face with her
hands and released her pent emotions. He took a package of
tobacco and a sheaf of papers from his trousers pocket, rolled
and lighted a cigarette. After a while she dried her eyes,
looked at him shamefacedly. But he was all understanding and
sympathy.
"Now you feel better, don't you?"
"Much," said she. And she laughed. "I guess I'm more upset than
I let myself realize."
"Sorry you left home?"
"I haven't any home," answered she simply. "And I wouldn't go
back alive to the place I came from."
There was a quality in the energy she put into her words that
made him thoughtful. He counseled with the end of his cigarette.
Finally he inquired:
"Where are you bound for?"
"I don't know exactly," confessed she, as if it were a small matter.
He shook his head. "I see you haven't the faintest notion what
you're up against."
"Oh, I'll get along. I'm strong, and I can learn."
He looked at her critically and rather sadly.
"Yes--you are strong," said he. "But I wonder if you're strong enough."
"I never was sick in my life.
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