"My, my, it certainly is a treat to see a real, live Prairie Queen once.

Beats making them to order--" "We'll omit the superfluous chatter, please." Jean looked him over and tagged him mentally with one glance.

He did not look like a rustler,--with his fat good-nature and his town-bred personality, and his gray tweed suit and pigskin puttees, and the big cameo ring on his manicured little finger, and his fresh-shaven face as round as the sun above his head and almost as cheerful.

Perfectly harmless, but Jean would not yield to the extent of softening her glance or her manner one hundredth of a degree.

The more harmless these people, the more ridiculous she had made herself appear.
The chuckly one grinned and removed his soft gray hat, held it against his generous equator, and bowed so low as to set him puffing a little afterward.