Her graceful hat, her daintily gloved hands, her tasteful dress, impressed the cowboy with a feeling that all art and poetry and refinement were represented by her.

For the moment his own serenity and self-command were shaken.

He cowered in his seat like a dust-covered plowman in a parlor, and when Mary looked in his direction his breath quickened and he shrank.

He was not yet ready to have her recognize him.
The preacher, a handsome and scholarly young fellow, arose to speak, and Harold was interested in him at once.

The service had nothing of the old-time chant or drawl or drone.