She lowered her head, burying her face in the blossoms and then picked a few petals and let them fall one by one from her fingers. "You didn't look at them at all," she chided.
"Oh, yes, I did," he laughed. "But I see flowers all th' time, and not much of you."
"That's nice—they are so pretty. I just love them."
"Yes. I reckon they are," doubtfully.
She looked up at him, her eyes laughing and her white teeth glistening between their red frames. "Why don't you scold me?" she asked.
"Scold you! What for?"
"Why, for being on yore ranch, for being across th' line an' in th' valley."
"Good Lord! Why, there ain't no lines for you! You can go anywhere."
"In th' valley?" she asked, again hiding her face in the flowers.
"Why, of course. What ever made you think you can't?"