Nevertheless he had a depressing consciousness that his lithe and graceful burden was somewhat in the way of any heroic expression.
"Seth can lick you out of your boots, chile," she said with naive abstraction.

Then, as he struggled to secure an upright position, "Don't git riled, honey.

Of course you'd let them kill you before YOU'D give in.

But that's their best holt--that's their trade! That's all they can do--don't you see?
That's where YOU'RE not like THEM--that's why you're not their low down kind! That's why you're my boy--that's why I love you!" She had thrown her whole weight again upon his shoulders until she had forced him back to his seat.

Then, with her locked hands again around his neck, she looked intently into his face.