Are you married?"
"No," said the editor, promptly.
"Nor engaged to any--young lady?"--with great politeness.
"No."
"Well, mebbe you think it a queer thing for me to say,--mebbe you reckon
you KNOW it ez well ez anybody,--but it's my opinion that White Violet
is in love with you."
"With me?" ejaculated the editor, in a hopeless astonishment that at
last gave way to an incredulous and irresistible laugh.
A slight touch of pain passed over Mr. Bowers's dejected face, but left
the deep outlines set with a rude dignity. "It's SO," he said, slowly,
"though, as a young man and a gay feller, ye may think it's funny."
"No, not funny, but a terrible blunder, Mr. Bowers, for I give you my
word I know nothing of the lady and have never set eyes upon her."
"No, but she has on YOU. I can't say," continued Mr. Bowers, with
sublime naivete, "that I'd ever recognize you from her description, but
a woman o' that kind don't see with her eyes like you and me, but with
all her senses to onct, and a heap more that ain't senses as we know
'em.
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