She paid not the slightest attention to Ford's hand upon her saddle horn, nor at the steady gaze of his eyes.
Later, when Ford observed the rigidity of her whole pose and sensed that mental withdrawing which needs no speech to push one off from the more intimate ground of companionship, he wondered a little.

Without in the least knowing why he felt rebuffed, he took away his hand, and swung his horse slightly away from her; his own back stiffened a little in response to the chilled atmosphere.
"Yes," she said at last, "we'll forget all about it, Mr.Campbell." "You called me Ford, a while ago," he hinted.
"Did I?
One forms the habit of picking up a man's given name, out here in the West, I find.

I'm sorry--" "I don't want you to be sorry.

I want you to do it again.

All the time," he added boldly.
He caught the gleam of her eyes under her heavy lashes, as she glanced at him sidelong.
"If you go looking at me out of the corner of your eyes," he threatened recklessly, kicking his horse closer, "I'm liable to kiss you!" And he did, before she could draw away.
"I've been kinda thinking maybe I'm in love with you, Josephine," he murmured, holding her close.