Harlan took his seat opposite the ladies, and now, in this close proximity, he realized how charming the young girl was. From the close braids of her brown hair to the tips of her bronze shoes she was womanly grace and refinement personified. There was a cordial frankness in her tone and eyes that attracted him, and put him at his ease. Yet there was no hint of coquetry. He liked her at once and instinctively, because somehow she seemed to meet him on a manly plane of good-fellowship--and yet she was so thoroughly and deliciously feminine. There was just a bit of a drawl in her voice, a suggestion of jocoseness, continual appreciation of the humor of life and living. And her laugh was an inspiration. He was a little surprised at himself when he found that he was chatting with her so easily. Later, when he reflected, he understood. She had almost a masculine breadth of view in addition to her culture. In that first day of their meeting she gave voice to some of his own unexpressed views regarding the trend of the times in public matters. She apologized, half-humorously. "But as I said to you a while ago, we hear politics talked much at the State capital." Following the after-breakfast chat, he walked back to the hotel with his grandfather. "By-the-way, I didn't lie to you any about Luke's girl, did I?" remarked the old man, casually, and as though the matter had occurred to him in default of better topic. "But she's too advanced in her ideas for a woman. She'll be suffragette-ing it next."