She drank her coffee and her eyes sought to
penetrate the blackness beyond the firelight. Somewhere out there in
the dark--she shuddered as she attempted to visualize _what_ was
somewhere out there in the dark. And then a flash of memory brought
with it a ray of hope that cheered her immeasurably. "Why, he was a
champion swimmer in college," she said aloud. "He was always winning
cups and things. And he's strong, and brave--and yet----" Vividly to
her mind came the picture of the wildly rushing flood with its burden
of tossing trees, and the man being swept straight into the gurge of
it. "I'll tell him he's brave--and he'll spoil it all by saying that
it was the only _practical_ thing to do." "Oh," she cried aloud, "I
could love him if it were not for his deadly practicability--even if I
should have to live in Cincinnati." And straightway fell to comparing
the two men. "Tex is absurdly unconventional in speech and actions,
and he has an adorable disregard for laws and things. He's just a big,
irresponsible boy--and yet, he makes you feel as if he always knew
exactly what to do and how to do it. And he is brave, too, with a
reckless, devil-may-care sort of bravery that takes no thought of cost
or consequences. He knew, when he let go his bridle reins, that he
couldn't swim a stroke--and he smiled and didn't care.
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