You've always had rather queer taste in women, Jack; but, of course, being a long-rider, you haven't seen much of them.

At least her name is delightful--Mary Brown! You've no idea how often I've repeated it aloud to myself--Mary Brown!" "I hate her!" "You two didn't have a very agreeable time of it?
By the way, she must have left in rather a hurry to forget her glove, eh ?" "Yes, she ran--like a coward." "Ah ?" "Like a trembling coward.

How can you care for a white-faced little fool like that?
Is she your match?
Is she your mate ?" He considered a moment, as though to make sure that he did not exaggerate.
"I love her, Jack, as men love water when they've ridden all day over hot sand without a drop on their lips--you know when the tongue gets thick and the mouth fills with cotton--and then you see clear, bright water, and taste it?
"She is like that to me.

She feeds every sense; and when I look in her eyes, Jack, I feel like the starved man on the desert, as I was saying, drinking that priceless water.

You knew something of the way I feel, Jack.