She did not appear alarmed, at least to the extent of hysteria, though she struggled feebly, and said that somebody was a big, brutal gorilla, and that she did not propose to be snatched from the bosom of her tribe to be conveyed to some tree-top refuge, and there become a monster's bride.
He would assert at times, and the idea was one he clung to with great persistency, that the person with him was not even of the race, but had been substituted in the cradle for a white child stolen by an Indian woman with some great wrong to avenge.

He would call her his Chippewa Changeling, and at lunch would be most solicitous as to whether or not the Wild Rose would have a little more of the chicken salad.

Would the Flying Pawn try the celery?
Some of the jelly, he felt confident, would please the palate of the Brown Dove.

Might the white hunter help her to a little more of this or that?
Only once she rebelled.

She was laughing at something he had said, and he referred to her benignantly as his Minnegiggle, which was, admittedly, an outrage.
A great fancy of these two it was to imagine themselves a couple apart from the crowd, and unversed in city ways, and just from the country.
Not from the farm would they come, but from some town of moderate size, for they prided themselves on not being altogether ignorant.