Yet she did not at all seem to be that kind, and Keith mentally contrasted her with numerous others whom he had somewhat intimately known along the border circuit.

It was difficult to associate her with that class; she must have come originally from some excellent family East, and been driven to the life by necessity; she was more to be pitied than blamed.

Keith held no puritanical views of life--his own experiences had been too rough and democratic for that--yet he clung tenaciously to an ideal of womanhood which could not be lowered.

However interested he might otherwise feel, no Christie Maclaire could ever find entrance into the deeps of his heart, where dwelt alone the memory of his mother.
He found the other horses turned into the corral, and was able, from their restless movements, to decide they numbered eight.

A fire, nearly extinguished, glowed dully at the farther corner of the enclosure, and he crawled close enough to distinguish the recumbent forms of men sleeping about it on the ground.