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Updated: May 19, 2025
Behind her tight-shut lids the dark went red. She stood rigid and quivering, stormed through by a raging impulse to tear out either his throat or her own. She was herself a more advanced product of her own advanced race, and urged by impulses still new and imperfectly applied to life.
She caught him about the neck with both her arms. Almost incoherently her words rushed from her tight-shut teeth. "Ah, I can make you love me. I can make you love me," she cried. "You shall come back to me. You are mine, and you cannot help but come back." "Por Dios, Rubia," he ejaculated, "remember yourself. You are out of your head." "Come back to me; love me." "No, no." "Come back to me."
In the loneliness of the tight-shut little office, he confronted the knowledge that he did not think of Uncle Elbert's daughter as his enemy, and that it mattered to him that she was to hate him and worse.... Suddenly in the entire stillness, he heard a sound close by, and straightened up sharply. Some one was gently trying the front door. He felt quite sure of it.
"I must know best what I ought to do." After that my man put the tip of his forefinger to his nose, and exclaimed: "Oh, so!" I looked at him with tight-shut lips, giving vent to a slight "H m, h m!" At that he raised his eyebrows, lifted his fat finger with a warning gesture, and smiled mischievously; whereat I shrugged my shoulders, and the mutual understanding was perfect.
There's mebbe two or three guys around the ranch would stick to Barbara, but that's all. Take a look at John Haydon, an' if you think he's on the level an' you want to drift on turn things over to him." Morgan shuddered, and was silent for a time, his lips tight-shut, his face whitening in the dusk as he fought the pain that racked him.
In person, he was a thickset man of middle height and elderly middle age, with cold steady eyes and grizzled hair. His clean shaved face was chiefly remarkable for the hardness of his tight-shut mouth, and the obstinacy of the chin beneath it.
Alone there in the dim half-light of the decaying Mission, with its crumbling plaster, its naive crudity of ornament and picture, he wrestled fiercely with his desires words, fragments of sentences, inarticulate, incoherent, wrenched from his tight-shut teeth. But the Answer was not in the church.
For all I care the moon can turn green, an' grow a hump like a camel just so she gives us light enough to see by." He led the way across the little plateau and the others followed. With eyes tight-shut and hands gripping the saddle-horn, Alice gave her horse full rein as he followed the Texan's down the narrow sloping ledge that answered for a trail.
The man who spoke was about forty years of age. His name was Calvin Hardy Crookes. He was very small and very slim. His hair was yet dark, and his face smooth-shaven and triangulated in shape, like a cat's was dark as well. The eyebrows were thin and black, and the lips too were thin and were puckered a little, like the mouth of a tight-shut sack. The face was secretive, impassive, and cold.
Stover crossed to the bunk and laid a hand upon the occupant, at which a convulsion ran through the trainer's soft body, and it became as rigid as if locked in death. "Come out, Mr. Glass, it's all over." Larry muttered in a stifled voice, "Go 'way!" "It was a mistake." He opened his tight-shut lids, rolled over, and thrust forth a round, pallid face.
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