He says he's sorry he sassed me, and if I can drive a car in this darned town and not spend all my loose change paying fines, I'm a better man than he is.

He doesn't know when he'll be back--and there you are." She sat down wearily on the arm of an over-stuffed armchair and looked up at the gilt-and-onyx clock which I suspected Casey of having bought.
"If he isn't lynched before morning," she sighed whimsically, "he'll probably make it to the Nevada line all right." I rose, also glancing at the clock.

But the Little Woman put up a hand to forbid the plan she read in my mind.
"Let him alone, Jack," she advised.

"Let him go and be just as wild and devilish as he wants to be.

I'm only thankful he can take it out on a Ford and a pick and shovel.