They didn't know the first thing about the majesty of sex.

The Indian, she understood, was an exception.
From all accounts, he knew how to treat his woman.
She was homesick.

Her heart leaped with joy when she discovered in Percival what she believed to be a domineering, masterful man.

He had been neither servile, nor polite, nor afraid.

He had treated her,--at least for an illuminating, transcendent ten minutes,--as if she were the dirt under his feet,--and he was an American at that.