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After a minute she ventured to glance furtively at Keith, and, finding his eyes turned her way, blushed again and called herself an idiot. After that, she straightened in the saddle, and became the self-poised Miss Lansell, of New York. Keith rode away to the far side of the herd, out of temptation; queer a man never runs from a woman until it is too late to be a particle of use.
Those are the regulation stage settings, I believe, and " "Don't worry, Miss Lansell. I didn't expect you to faint, or to show any human feelings whatever. I do pity your horse, though." "You didn't a minute ago," she reminded him. "You indulged in a bit of profanity, if I remember." "For which I beg Goldie's pardon," he retorted, his eyes unsmiling. "And mine, I hope." "Certainly."
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