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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"

I believe not always; but I wonder at your being able
to discern my superiority to these surroundings. And do you know your
questioning is becoming quite personal? Does that yield me an equal
privilege?"
He bowed, perhaps relieved at thus permitting her to assume the
initiative, and rested lazily back upon the grass, his eyes intently
studying her face.
"I suppose from your clothes you must be a soldier. What is that
figure 7 on your hat for?"
"The number of my regiment, the Seventh Cavalry."
Her glance was a bit disdainful as she coolly surveyed him from head to
foot, "I should imagine that a strong, capable-appearing fellow like
you might do much better than that. There is so much work in the world
worth doing, and so much better pay."
"What do you mean? Is n't a soldier's life a worthy one?"
"Oh, yes, of course, in a way. We have to have soldiers, I suppose;
but if I were a man I 'd hate to waste all my life tramping around at
sixteen dollars a month."
He smothered what sounded like a rough ejaculation, gazing into her
demure eyes as if she strongly suspected a joke hid in their depths.


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