"No, I haven't noticed that."
"Plenty of time to see it yet." Then, with a swift blaze of feeling, "What's the use of pretending? I know what you think."
"Then you know more than I do. My thoughts don't go any farther than this, that you have saved my life and I'm grateful for it."
"I know better. You think I'm a rustler. But don't say it. Don't you dare say it."
Brought up in an atmosphere of semi-barbaric traditions, silken-strong, with instincts unwarped by social pressure, she was what the sun and wind and freedom of Arizona had made her, a poetic creation far from commonplace. So he judged her, and in spite of the dastardly thing she had done he sensed an innate refinement strangely at variance with the circumstances.
"All right. I won't," he answered, with a faint smile.
"Now you've got to pay for your sandwiches by making yourself useful. I'm going to finish this job." She said it with an edge of sel