“Here. Rex went lame, and Dick wouldn't let me ride any other horse, since that day Goldie bolted—and so the hills have called in vain. I've stayed at home and made quantities of Duchesse lace—I almost finished a love of a center piece—and mama thinks I have reformed. But Rex is better, and tomorrow I'm going somewhere.”
“Better help me hunt some horses that have been running down Lost Canyon way. I'm going to look for them to-morrow,” Keith suggested, as calmly as was compatible with his eagerness and his method of speech. I doubt if any man can whisper things to a girl he loves, and do it calmly. I know Keith's heart was pounding.
“I shall probably ride in the opposite direction,” Beatrice told him wickedly. She wondered if he thought she would run at his beck.
“I never saw you in this dress before,” Keith murmured, his eyes caressing.
“No? You may never again,” she said. “I have so many things to wear out, you know.”
“I like it,” he declared, as emphatically as he could, and whisper. “It is just the color of your cheeks, after the wind has been kissing them a while.”
“Fancy a cowboy saying pretty things like that!”
Beatrice's cheeks did not wait for the wind to kiss them pink.
“Ya-as, only fawncy, ye knaw.” His eyes were daringly mocking.
“For shame, Mr. Cameron! Sir Redmond would not mimic your speech.”