This girl's voice was like an echo from far-away Utah and Piney Ridge Cottage.

And there was something about the shapely head now framed in wind-blown hair and the face itself that reminded him of someone else.

Just how the resemblance came in he could not tell, but there it was.

Perhaps, after all, it was just the look in her eyes and the spirit that accompanied her actions and words that moved him.
"Is that man a friend of yours ?" she asked.
"You mean that drunken fool?
No; I've never met him before." "That was just a ruse then--that invitation to drink." "I had to do something, and that came first to me." "Then you didn't go and drink with him ?" "Why no, of course not.

I took him to his berth, and told him to stay there." "Do you think he will ?" "Yes; until he sobers up." "Well, I don't like drunken men." "Neither do I." "We're agreed on one thing then, aren't we ?" Chester laughed with her.