It's quite a different place in the winter.

I don't believe a--person--could live on the year round and be contented." "It would depend upon the person, of course." "If it were a lady,--yourself, for instance,--could it be made anyway tolerable, do you think?
Of course, one might get away now and then--" "I don't know.

It's not easy to tell beforehand how people are going to feel; but I can't imagine the High Valley ever seeming like a prison," replied Clover, vexed to find herself blushing, and yet unable to help it, Geoff's manner had such an odd intensity in it.
"If I were sure that you could realize what it would be--" he began impetuously; then quieting himself, "but you don't.

How could you?
Ranch life is well enough in summer for a short time by way of a frolic; but in winter and spring with the Upper Canyon full of snow, and the road down muddy and slippery, and the storms and short days, and the sense of being shut in and lonely, it would be a dismal place for a lady.

Nobody has a right to expect a woman to undergo such a life." Clover absorbed herself in her sewing, she did not speak; but still that deep uncomfortable blush burned on her cheeks.
"What do you think ?" persisted Geoff.