Don't he love you ?" "Yes! That's the trouble; and he wants to many me; he swears he will in spite of everything." "See here! I don't quite follow.

I thought you liked him--he's the kind most women go daffy over." "Like him!" The girl trembled with emotion.

"Like him! Why--why, I would do anything to make him happy." "I guess I must be kind of dull," Stark said, perplexedly.
"Don't you see?
I've got to give him up--I'm a squaw." "Squaw hell! With those shoulders ?" Stark checked himself, for he found he was rejoicing in his enemy's defeat, and was in danger of betraying himself to the girl.

In every encounter the young man had bested him, and these petty defeats had crystallized his antipathy to Burrell into a hatred so strong that he had begun to lie awake nights planning a systematic quarrel.

For he was the kind of man who throve upon contentions: so warped in soul that when no man offered him offence he brooded over fancied wrongs and conjured up a cause for enmity, goading himself into that sour, sullen habit of mind that made him a dread and a menace to all who lacked his favor.