Whether from languor, ill-health, or more probably from a morbid consciousness of her own height, she moved with a slightly affected stoop that had become a habit.

It did not seem ungraceful to Hale, already attracted by her delicate profile, her large dark eyes, and a certain weird resemblance she had to some half-domesticated dryad.
"That'll do, Maw," she said, dismissing her parent with a nod.

"I'll talk to Dick." As the door closed on the old woman, Zenobia leaned her hands on the back of a chair, and confronted the admiring eyes of Dick with a goddess-like indifference.
"Now wot's the use of your playin' this yer game on me, Dick?
Wot's the good of your ladlin' out that hogwash about huntin'?
HUNTIN'! I'll tell yer the huntin' you-uns hev been at! You've been huntin' George Lee and his boys since an hour before sun up.

You've been followin' a blind trail up to the Ridge, until the snow got up and hunted YOU right here! You've been whoopin' and yellin' and circus-ridin' on the roads like ez yer wos Comanches, and frightening all the women folk within miles--that's your huntin'! You've been climbin' down Paw's old slide at last, and makin' tracks for here to save the skins of them condemned government horses of the Kempany! And THAT'S your huntin'!" To Hale's surprise, a burst of laughter from the party followed this speech.

He tried to join in, but this ridiculous summary of the result of his enthusiastic sense of duty left him--the only earnest believer mortified and embarrassed.