It was a relief to find that she still averted her face.
"At Berkeley, in California, the first time, and the second at Spokane, in front of the Davenport," she replied.
"First--and--second ?...

You--you remembered both times!" he burst out, incredulously.
"Yes.

I don't see how I could have helped remembering." Her laugh was low, musical, a little hurried, yet cool.
Dorn was not familiar with girls.

He had worked hard all his life, there among those desert hills, and during the few years his father had allowed him for education.

He knew wheat, but nothing of the eternal feminine.