He had managed for a good many years to get along on his own hook.

The Little Woman was all right, but she was making a mistake--a big mistake--if she thought she had to close-herd him to keep him out of trouble.
He rolled a smoke and wished that the Little Woman would settle down with him somewhere in the desert, where he could keep a couple of burros and go prospecting in the hills.

Where sagebrush could grow to their very door if it wanted to, and the moon could show them long stretches of mesa land shadowed with mystery, and then drop out of sight behind high peaks.
He felt that he might indeed grow old fast, shut up in a city.

It occurred to him that the Little Woman was unreasonable to expect it of him.

Her idea of getting him out of town for a time, as the judge had advised, was to send him up to San Francisco to be close-herded there.
Casey had promised to go, but now the prospect jarred.