And the woman of the observation car platform--From distant Fairlands, the man turned his eyes to the winsome face of his girl comrade on the mountain top.
"Please"-- she said, meeting his serious gaze with a smile of frank fellowship--"please, what have I done ?" Smiling, he answered gravely, "I don't exactly know--but you have done something." "You look so serious.

I'm sure it must be pretty bad.

Can't you think what it is ?" He laughed.

"I was thinking about down there"-- he pointed into the haze of the distant valley to the west.
"Don't," she returned, "let's think about up here"-- she waved her hand toward the high crest of the San Bernardinos, and the mountain peaks about them.
"Will you let me paint your portrait--when we get back to the orange groves ?" he asked.
"I'm sure I don't know," she returned.

"Why do you want to paint me?
I'm nobody, you know--but just me." "That's the reason I want to paint you," he answered.
"What's the reason ?" "Because you are you." "But a portrait of me would not help you on your road to fame," she retorted.
He flinched.