The cayuse isn't foaled yet here on Quien Sabe that can throw me, nor the dog whelped that would dare show his teeth at me.

I kick that Irish setter every time I see him--but wonder what I'd do, though, if he didn't slink so much, if he wagged his tail and was glad to see me?
So it all comes to this: I'd like to have you--well, sort of feel that I was a good friend of yours and like me because of it." The flame in the lamp on the wall in front of Hilma stretched upward tall and thin and began to smoke.

She went over to where the lamp hung and, standing on tip-toe, lowered the wick.

As she reached her hand up, Annixter noted how the sombre, lurid red of the lamp made a warm reflection on her smooth, round arm.
"Do you understand ?" he queried.
"Yes, why, yes," she answered, turning around.

"It's very good of you to want to be a friend of mine.