I knew a girl once that was just as good and pure as Necia, and just as pretty, too--yes, and a thousand times prettier." "Ho, ho!" laughed Doret, sceptically.
"She was an Eastern girl, and she come West where men were different to what she'd been used to.

Those were early days, and it was a new country, where a person didn't know much about his neighbor's past and cared less; and, although there were a heap of girls thereabouts, they were the kind you'll always find in such communities, while this one was plumb different.

Man! Man! But she was different.

She was a WOMAN! Two fellows fell in love with her.

One of them lived in the same camp as her, and he was a good man, leastways everybody said he was, but he wasn't wise to all the fancy tricks that pretty women hanker after; and, it being his first affair, he was right down buffaloed at the very thought of her, so he just hung around and slept late so that he might dream about her and feel like he was her equal or that she loved back at him.