He put it into his pocket, came silently up to Lorraine and pulled off her other glove.

Without a word he took her wrists in a firm clasp, tied them together again to the saddle horn, pulled off her tie, her hat, and the pins from her hair.
"I guess you don't know me yet," he remarked dryly, when he had confiscated every small article which she could let fall as she rode.

"I was trying to treat yuh white, but you don't seem to appreciate it.

Now you can ride hobbled, young lady." "Oh, I could _kill_ you!" Lorraine whispered between set teeth.
"You mean you'd like to.

Well, I ain't going to give you a chance." His eyes rested on her face with a new expression; an awakening desire for her, an admiration for the spirit that would not let her weep and plead with him.
"Say! you ain't going to be a bit hard to marry," he observed, his eyes lighting with what was probably his nearest approach to tenderness.