He had stumbled upon the clue to her tantalizing personality.

Her fingers, sunburned and boyish, told the story.

No wonder she had exasperated him so frequently.

He had tried to treat with her as a woman, when she was not a woman.

She was a mere girl--and a boyish girl at that--with sunburned fingers that delighted in doing what boys' fingers did; with a body and muscles that liked swimming and violent endeavour of all sorts; with a mind that was daring, but that dared no farther than boys' adventures, and that delighted in rifles and revolvers, Stetson hats, and a sexless _camaraderie_ with men.
Somehow, as he pondered and watched her, it seemed as if he sat in church at home listening to the choir-boys chanting.