The Green Forest tribune., 1916-04-28
to label Amy, sweetest and most

to label Amy sweetest and most seraphic of diminutives."
 If you don't like my name" she began, and then she went off at an other tangent. Please tell me why am collection of contradictions
 Brouillard's gaze went past the shapely little figure in the string ham, mock to lose itself in the far Timan- yoni distances.
 You are bundle of surprises" he said, letting the musing thought slip into speech. What can you possibly know about my thoughts?"
 She made funny little grimace at him. ''It was contradictions a mo- ment ago and now it is surprises Which reminds me, you haven't told me why l am a collection" "Oh, I can catalogue them if you push me to it. One minute you are the Madonna lady that I can't recall, calm, reposeful, truthful, and all that, you know-so truthful that those child like eyes of yours would make stut- | tering imbecile of the man who should come to you with a lie in his mouth"
 And the next minute?" | "The next minute you are a witch, laughing at the mans little weak nesses, putting your finger on them as accurately as if you could read his soul, holding them up to your ridicule and-what's much worse-to his own. At such times your insight, or what ever you choose to call it, is enough to give man a fit of seeing things.
 Her laugh was like a schoolgirls, light-hearted, ringing, deliciously unre- strained.
 What picture!" she commented. And them T can draw a better one of you, Monsieur Victor de Brouil- lard"
 Do it." he dared.
 ''Very well, then: Once upon a time it was good while ago, I'm afraid you were very upright young man. You would cheerfully have died for a principle in those days, and you would have allowed the enemy to cut you up into cunning little inch cubes before | yod WOulu AufC dulllltCSu tuoI dhy PlS- con was ever made to be plucked."
 He was smiling mirthlessly, with the black mustaches taking the sardonic upcurve.
 Then what happened?"
 One of two things, or maybe both of them. You were pushed out into the life race with some sort of a l ;+ or is. Is that true?"
 He nodded gravely. "It is all true enough. You haven't added anything more. than graceful little touch here and thgre. Who has been telling you all these things about me? Not Grizzy?"
 No, not Murray Grislow; it was the man you think you know best in all the worldwide is also probably the one you know the least-yourself.
 Good heavens! Am I really such a tEansnagant eg9lst a5 sI1 thst?" Siot
 All men are egen IA aay8S 8ST NNds calmly. "In some the.that he AL and clear-eyed and strong; .,t hers 1t is weak-in the same way h.at pas sion is weak; it will sacrifice all it has or hopes to have in some sa Iden fury of self-assertion. pf
 She sat up and put her hands to her hair, and he was free to look away, down upon the great ditch where the endless chain of concrete buckets added to the deep and widespread foundations of the dam. Across the river group of hidden sawmills sang their raucous song. In the middle dis tance the camp-town city spread its roughly indicated streets over the valley level, the tall chimney stacks or the new cement plant were rising, and from the quarries beyond the plant the dull thunder of the blasts drifted up
 This was not Brouillard's first visit to the cabin on the Massingale claim | by many. In the earliest stages of the valley activities Smith, the Buckskin cattleman, had been Amy Massingale's | escort to the reclamation camp-"just couple O lookers," in Smiths phrase and the unconventional attitudes had done the rest From that day for ward the young woman had hospitably | opened her door to Brouillard and his assistants, and any member of the corps, from Leshington the morose, who commonly came to sit in solemn silence on the porch step, to Griffith, who had lost his youthful heart to Miss Massingale on his first visit, was welcome.
 NN25 CHAPTER VII asaA} S 0