Duane felt her heart beat against his, and conscience smote him a keen blow.

If she loved him so much! But memory and understanding of her character hardened him again, and he gave her such commiseration as was due her sex, and no more.
"Boy, that's good of you," she whispered, "but it's too late.

I'm done for.

I can't leave Bland.

All I ask is that you love me a little and stop your gun-throwing." The moon had risen over the eastern bulge of dark mountain, and now the valley was flooded with mellow light, and shadows of cottonwoods wavered against the silver.
Suddenly the clip-clop, clip-clop of hoofs caused Duane to raise his head and listen.