"That's why." "What're you mad at ?" queried Wilson.
She did not reply, but kept on gazing steadily at him.

Moore still looked pale and drawn, but he had improved since last she saw him.
"Aren't you going to speak to a fellow ?" he went on.
"How are you, Wils ?" she asked.
"Pretty good for a club-footed has-been cow puncher." "I wish you wouldn't call yourself such names," rejoined Columbine, peevishly.

"You're not a club-foot.

I hate that word!" "Me, too.

Well, joking aside, I'm better.