For she knew something of Lawler's high ideals, the rugged honesty of him, his straightforwardness and his hatred for the thieves who stole cattle--thieves like her father.

She couldn't marry him, feeling that each time he looked at her she must feel that he would be thinking of the misdeeds of her parent.

That would be unbearable.
He took a step, and stood beside her, looking down at her gravely.

He took one of her hands, she permitting it, lifting her eyes to his as he drew the hand toward him.

The hand lay inertly in his left; he covered it with his right and held it thus in a warm, firm grip.