CHAPTER VIII

OF A PLOT MATRIMONIAL “Miss Josepha,” said he, pausing suddenly to look at her, “are we going to be . . . real friends?” “Yes,” she answered, in her decided manner, “I’m sure we are.” “Why then,” quoth Dallas, setting by the hammer and squaring his shoulders as for some mighty effort, “I . . . I guess it’s up to me to tell you all about myself.” “No, I’d rather you didn’t——” “Well now—why not?” inquired he opening his grey eyes at her. “Because it would be rather like forcing your confidence. And besides there’s re…