She's English, isn't she ?" "Of course.

But aren't you English, too ?" Weston's eyes twinkled.
"I am.

Still, I don't want you to think that it's merely because Miss Kinnaird comes from the same country that I do that I didn't expect her to realize that to stand posed for an hour or so is apt to cramp one." Ida laughed.

It evidently was clear to him that Miss Kinnaird regarded him as a packer and nothing else, and had decided that he had probably grown used to physical discomfort.

Ida was, however, rather pleased to see that he accepted the fact good-humoredly and did not resent it.
She was in no way astonished that he should answer her as he had, for, in the west, a man may speak naturally to any young woman who addresses him, without feeling called on to remember the distinctions of caste.
"I wonder," she said, "whether you would tell me what caused the trouble you were mixed up in two or three nights ago." Weston's face grew slightly flushed, for he was still in certain respects somewhat ingenuous; but he told her simply what had led up to the affray.
"After all you could hardly blame the boys," he added.