He did not know the first thing about the real estate business, he confessed, nor very much about ranching.

Oh, yes--he lived in this country, and he knew THAT pretty well, but-- "The point is right here," said Florence Grace Hallman, laying her pink fingertips upon his arm and glancing behind her to make sure that they were practically alone--their immediate neighbors being still in the diner.

"I'm speaking merely upon impulse--which isn't a wise thing to do, ordinarily.

But--well, your eyes vouch for you, Mr.Green, and we women are bound to act impulsively sometimes--or we wouldn't be women, would we ?" She laughed--rather, she gave a little, infectious giggle, and took away her fingers, to the regret of Andy who liked the feel of them on his forearm.
"The point is here.

I've recognized the fact, all along, that we need a man stationed right here, living in the country, who will meet prospective homesteaders and talk farming; keep up their enthusiasm; whip the doubters into line; talk climate and soil and the future of the country; look the part, you understand." "So I look like a rube, do I ?" Andy's lips quirked a half smile at her.
"No, of course you don't!" She laid her fingers on his sleeve again, which was what Andy wanted--what he had intended to bait her into doing; thereby proving that, in some respects at least, he amply justified Hiss Hallman in her snap judgment of him.
"Of course you don't look like a rube! I don't want you to.