Patty laughed outright at his quick appreciation of her mood.

“Well,” she parried, “you see, I don’t know you very well.”

“All the more reason for snatching this chance to get acquainted.”

“Somebody might see us.”

“Let them.  It’s no crime to stroll down to the beach.”

“Somebody might object to my monopolising you like this.”

“Who, Mona?”

“No; not Mona.”

“Who, then?”

“Is there no one who might justly do so?”

“No, indeed!  Unless Mrs. Parsons thinks I’m neglecting her.”

“Nonsense.  I don’t mean her.  But, what about Miss Dow?”

“Daisy Dow!  Well, Miss Fairfield, I’m a blunt Westerner, and I don’t know how to say these things subtly, but when you imply that Daisy has any special interest in me, you do me undeserved honour.  I’ve known her for years, and we’re good chums, but she’d have no right to comment if I walked down to the sea, or into it, or across it.  Now, will you be good?” They had reached the beach, and stood looking at the great rollers coming in, their white crests tinged by the last rays of the setting sun, which flashed a good-bye at them from the opposite horizon.

“It’s fortunate you Eastern people have a sea,” Farnsworth said, as he gazed across the black distance, “or you wouldn’t know the meaning of the word space.  Your lives and living are so cramped.”

“You Western people have a sea, too, I believe,” said Patty.

“Yes, but we don’t really need it, as you do.  We have seas of land, rolling all over the place.  We can get our breath inland; you have to come to the ocean to get a full breath.”

“That’s the popular superstition.  I mean, that we are cramped and all that.  But, really, I think we all have room enough.  I think the Westerner’s idea of wanting several acres to breathe in is just a habit.”

Farnsworth looked at her steadily.  “Perhaps you’re right,” he said; “at any rate, you seem to know all about it.  Do you suppose I could learn to see it as you do?”

“Of course you could.  But why should you?  If you like the West, the big, breezy, long-distance West, there’s no reason why you should cultivate a taste for our little cramped up, stuffy East.”

“That’s right!  But I wish I could show you our country.  Wouldn’t you love to go galloping across a great prairie,—­tearing ahead for illimitable miles,—­breathing the air that has come, fresh and clean, straight down from the blue sky?”

“You make it sound well, but after that mad gallop is over, what then?  A shack or ranch, or whatever you call it, with whitewashed walls, and rush mats and a smoky stove?”

“By George!  You’re about right!  It wouldn’t suit you, would it?  You couldn’t fit into that picture!”

“I’m ’fraid not.  But if we’re going to fit into the picture soon to assemble in Mona’s dining-room, we must make a start in that direction.  Mr. Farnsworth—­”